Waiting For The Fall
by AmeliaSkellig
Summary: Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, broken, lost. Cara Fox, ex-agent of SHIELD, a woman who sets out to protect him against those who wish to turn him back into the weapon he once was. Two people who have lost everything, who do not know who they are. And everyone has their ghosts. No one can run from their pasts forever. In an already unstable world, it does not take much to fall.
1. New Mission

**_A Note From The Author:_**

_One for sorrow,_

_Two for joy,_

_Three for a girl,_

_Four for a boy,_

_Five for silver,_

_Six for gold,_

_Seven for a secret, never to be told._

_Eight for Heaven._

_Nine for Hell._

_Ten when you sing to the Devil himself._

_-Nursery Rhyme_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Marvel or any of it's characters and place. I only own a few original characters and concepts.

_[ chapter rewritten 10-17-15 ] _

Names are important. They are a source of identity. They can tell us who we are, are an anchor, a grounding force. A thing which often someone has even if they have nothing else.

Cara Fox was not born with her name. She chose it, as she chose the person she wanted to be. Maybe that was one of the reasons she was drawn to Bucky Barnes, the man whose name had been taken from him. The man whose entire self had been stripped away, leaving a shattered soldier in its place.

On the day that she met him, the Captain America exhibit was crowded. People swarmed to learn about Steve Rogers, from his past and present, and about those who fought and lived with him. the vast majority of the attention, however, was on only Captain America. The walls dedicated to Howling Commandos had noticeably less people gathered in front of them. The one for James Buchanan Barnes was no different, with only a single observer, standing motionless with his face shadowed by a baseball cap, staring at the picture of the man on the wall.

Cara ran straight into him.

He caught her when she nearly fell, gripping her arms just under the shoulder, keeping her steady while simultaneously looking extremely threatening. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his, as he held her arms tightly enough to almost hurt. His dark blue eyes bore into hers, although they seemed distant, lost even, and were, of course, now glaring at her.

"Watch where you're going," he snapped, his voice sounding like it hadn't been used in a very long time.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I wasn't paying attention."

He paused, as if really seeing her for the first time. He blinked once, looking her up and down, and deciding that she was not a threat. In fact, he looked mildly regretful of his sharp tone. He met her eyes again, but broke away quickly.

"It's okay," he said quietly. He seemed to try and release her, but his left hand simply tightened. It was covered in glove. He frowned at it.

"Dammit," he muttered, his other hand flying to his wrist. After a moment of struggling with it, he let her go, stumbling backwards. Looking at the ground, he turned to walk away, weaving through the crowds, cradling his arm like he was hurt.

"What's your name?" she asked, following him. He glanced back down at her, pausing for a second.

"I… I- My name is… Bucky."

"Cara."

"Nice to meet you," he said, not looking at her. He kept walking.

"How do you like the exhibit?" she said, making small talk.

"It's okay," he said, staring at a distant place on the wall. "Some of it's inaccurate."

"Really?"

He nodded, still not looking at her. His expression were distant, and vaguely sad.

"Maybe I'll see you around, yeah?" Her fingers brushed his arm. He flinched slightly.

"Yeah," he said. He still didn't look at her. He kept walking. Cara smiled as she stopped and turned around, facing the Bucky Barnes exhibit. She smirked as she looked down at her phone, a small green dot moving away from her current position. Putting it back in her pocket, she removed the light and translucent glove on her left off, the extra trackers still on it. Placing it into her bag, she looked at the black and white picture of Bucky in front of her, and crossed her arms.

_Phase 1, complete,_ she thought to herself, sighing as she studied his features. _Now then, for a ghost story, you weren't that hard to find, now were you?_

* * *

_[About Two Weeks Earlier, Hours Before the Fall of SHIELD]_

"I can take care of myself," Cara said, speaking into her phone. She sat in her hotel room, feet tucked under her as she lay curled in the chair by the window, watching the people move in the streets below.

"Not this time you can't," the cool voice of Natasha Romanoff said.

"I've done this before."

"You understand what's going to happen-"

"Because you won't tell me."

"Listen," she heard Natasha snap. Her fellow spy sounded as anxious as she'd ever heard. "This is it. There's no more SHIELD after today. And all your secrets are going to be dumped everywhere. Everyone will know who you are. They will know _what_ you are. The shit they have on you, you'll be dead by next week, if you don't go under _now_."

Cara sighed, untangling her legs and leaning forward. "What are you doing, Natasha? What's happening?"

"I can't tell you."

"Is Rogers there?"

"Yes."

"Barton?"

"No."

"Is that why you're so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy!" Natasha said, in a very grumpy manner. "Look, I'm just about done. Today, I've been shot-"

"Wait, hold on. You've been shot?"

"Yes, by Steve Roger's own best friend, who is actually the Winter Soldier, and-"

"What? This isn't one of your conspiracy theories, is it?"

"No, it's not, and those weren't conspiracy theories. James Barnes is the Winter Soldier, stop interrupting," Natasha said. "And now I have to dismantle what has been keeping both our secrets, and I'm trying to protect you, and you are sassing me! And that isn't even taking into account the rest of my week!"

"Relax, Natasha," she said, standing up and stretching. "I'll go under. I'll just a ghost. Not even you'll be able to find me."

"Yeah, right. Don't forget who you are talking to."

"Fine, you'd be able to find me. No one else."

"Good."

"I'll see you soon, yeah?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Yeah. Soon. Take care of yourself, Cara. And do not go anywhere near SHIELD today." Before she could say another word, Natasha hung up.

Cara sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she looked out the window. People in suits pushed passed each other, and tourists took pictures. She was in Washington DC, having had a job here. A quick information steal for SHIELD. It was easy, and she had transferred it this morning. They had given her the week off, she didn't have to report back until Sunday, and she had spent the past day lazing around in her room, reading by the window.

When Natasha had called, she had been surprised. Nat usually never called while she was working, and she had been doing that a lot lately. SHIELD had assigned her to the famed Steve Rogers, and that was eating up all her time (she had to admit, she was a bit jealous. Everyone was. Working with Captain America sounded amazing).

Turning away, she began to pack up, hand hovering over the gun in the bottom of her bag, loaded and ready to go at a moment's notice. She sighed, taking it out and replacing it with a shirt. She got dressed as well, pulling on simple clothes that would not attract any extra attention. Carefully, she wiped down every surface, making sure not to leave behind a trace of even a fingerprint. The last thing she did was slide gun into the holster, pulling on her jacket over it, her bright red hair standing out in sharp contrast to the dark brown material. Picking up her bag, she let her eyes dart around her, making sure she didn't miss anything. It was a nice room, white blankets and tan walls, a overlooking a busy street below, no buildings that could be used for a sniper, completely secured and paid for by SHIELD.

What was she going to do when they were gone?

She didn't know anything else, nothing other than this. She could freelance, she supposed, or get a job at another agency, but she had been with SHIELD practically her entire life. This was it. She was losing what had been a constant in her life, one of the only constants.

She fought down a twinge of terror. She'd be okay. She could take care of herself. Sighing quietly, she left the room, walking down the hallway. It was empty, her footsteps muffled by the carpet. She smiled politely as she checked out, leaving the hotel like any other guest. They didn't notice gun under her jacket, or the fight in her stance, or the scar on her collarbone, just visible under her shirt. They only saw what she wanted them to see; a perfectly ordinary woman.

They only saw what _they wanted_ to see.

She got in her car, sleek, unidentifiable in a crowd, tossing her bag into the back seat. As she started the engine, she wondered what she was going to do. She needed to get get her fake documents, but where she kept them was by the Triskelion. Exactly where Natasha had told her not to near. Well. She needed those papers to disappear, and the sooner she got them, the better.

She would have to go to the eye of the storm, and hope all was calm.

* * *

Cara smiled grimly as she gathered the papers into her arms, putting them into her bag. The storage unit was small, filled with things that no one would think twice of if they came in. A dusty desk, a few cardboard boxes, even a rocking horse. In the corner was a box with a picture of an old tea set on it. That where she kept her passports, social security numbers, untraceable money. Another identity. Another person. Although, she hadn't been able to let go of her old self, not completely. When she chose a new name, she couldn't help but keep herself in it, and Allison Cara Fox was born.

She would keep going by Cara. She would not give up her name. It was her last tie, the only thing she had left.

Natasha would have disapproved. It was too similar, too unsafe. She should simply rebuild herself, like Natasha did, as she had been taught. But this, this was going to be for a long time, maybe forever. She might never be Cara Calista Fletcher again.

She wanted to keep that little bit of herself.

It had been her fellow spy who had told her to make this second identity. To tell no one about it, as everyone could be compromised, and she had to be ready to run at a moment's notice. And she would be running. She'd be running for her life, for _the rest _of her life. That was the terrifying truth. She shut her eyes, ignoring the wave of panic bubbling in her chest. Once she found something to do, a direction to go in, a new mission, maybe she could ignore her pounding heart.

A loud rumbling in from the ground shook her from her thoughts. Dropping the papers back into the box, she ran outside, seeing the Trisklelion in the distance, and that the Potomac had opened up, and that three helicarriers were slowly rising up. Her breath caught. That's what Natasha and Steve were doing. She walked forward only knowing that she had to help.

* * *

She watched the third ship fall, from a place on the edge of the water, and her trained eyes spotted the man fall from it. She knew who it was, recognizing the distinctive red, white, and blue suit. Steve Rogers was falling. And it made her heart stop. She had no way to reach him. Captain America would drown. She could jump in, but the chances of ever finding him in the murky water was miniscule. He was going to die.

"Come on," she said out loud, more to herself than anyone else. "Think. How do I save him? _How do I save him_?"

Something else caught her eye. Another man fall into the water below, or maybe he jumped. She watched the surface of the water, as he came up, gasping and spluttering, swimming to the shore. She pulled back into the shadows, not looking away from him, not knowing if he was a friend or not. He came to shore a few feet away, hair long and brown, hanging in his face. He was wearing black gear, had a metal arm, and... was dragging the body of Steve Rogers behind him.

She knew who he was. She had heard Natasha talk about her ghost story before. It was the Winter Soldier. And apparently, it was also Steve's long lost best friend. He wouldn't see her, if she didn't move. He clutched his middle, stumbling like he was in pain, obviously having injured his right shoulder. He glanced around, as he dropped the other man unceremoniously to the ground, sparing him a glance. She saw his face, and he looked very lost and unsure. And then he walked away, in the opposite direction as her. As he disappeared, she ran forward, dropping to Steve's side, and checking his pulse. She release a sigh of relief as she felt a steady, if weak, beat under her fingers.

The Winter Soldier had saved him. He didn't have to. He could've let him die. But he didn't. There was still a good man in there. And he was alone, in a very unforgiving world. People would be hunting him. And she knew what that was like. Cara stood up, dialing 911, as she thought about it.

She had a new mission.

She was going to protect the Winter Soldier.

A/N: I finally, after like a year, rewrote this. I'm so much happier about how the story starts now. I amm keeping the old author's note for nostalgia's sake.

Instead of doing Stats homework, I'm posting this. I'm a little nervous, as this is my first time publishing a story based around an OC (on here). I hope you like it, and thank you for reading!


	2. The World Behold

Her eyes scanned the information, as it came, running multiple programs to track the movements of the man. Bucky. That was his name. Bucky.

It had been almost three weeks since SHIELD had fallen, only a few days since she had seen him in the Captain America exhibit. He hadn't made a move, and neither had she. The most he had down was switch locations.

She presently sat in a cafe, the late daylight filtering in, turning everything a pale gold color. It was nearly empty. Everyone was pretty shaken up by the revelation of HYDRA, preferring the safety of their homes to the outdoors.

Cara leaned back, running a hand through her hair, and staring at her laptop. He was going to New York. Of course he was. He needed to find himself, and where else to go but to the beginning. She leaned back, wondering how she was going to get there before him, to have time to set up a cover. He'd be on foot, probably. He had nothing.

She had an apartment there, near Stark Tower. She had it set up as a safe house, completely off the grid. SHIELD didn't even know about it, so it wouldn't be with the secrets spilled all over the Internet. She could call in a few favors, have it furnished and livable.

Cara smiled slightly, pulling her keys to her out of her pocket and flipping them in her hand. Looks like she was going on a little road trip.

* * *

Bucky walked along the side of the road, keeping his head down. What little things he had were stuffed into a backpack on his shoulder, including his old uniform. Even though it was late in the afternoon, it was dark, storm clouds gathering overhead. A few raindrops, spatter down on him, and he wrapped his arms around his middle, shivering despite himself.

A car's headlights shone behind him, slowing down. He glanced away as the window rolled down.

"Do you need a ride?" A feminine voice said. She sounded familiar. Looking in, he saw the woman from the Smithsonian, her curly red hair falling into her green eyes. She blinked in recognition. "I know you... You were at the exhibit."

He nodded.

"Do you need a ride?"

"I'm fine," he said.

"No, you're not. It's raining, and these roads are dangerous."

"You shouldn't be picking up strange men, then."

"I can take care of myself," she said, leaning over and opening the door. "Now, please get in."

"No."

"I will follow you."

"I don't care."

"Look, just until it stops raining. Please."

He sighed. It was wet, and cold. She didn't seem too bad. If she worked for anyone, he could take her.

Sliding into the car, he put his bag at his feet, pushing himself as far against the wall as he could. She watched him carefully, and began to drive again.

"Bucky, right?" She said. He nodded.

"You're Cara." She returned the nod, keeping her eyes on the road. She was alert, though, body language tense. If he was the type of person to try something, he had no doubt she had a plan.

"Where are you going?"

"New York."

"Oh. Good. Same place." He glanced back at her. Her hands were wrapped loosely around the steering wheel, fingers tapping quietly. The silence that fell around them was not awkward, but not exactly comfortable either.

The radio quiet music, and he caught a few of the lyrics.

_Love, carry me in, carry me in, held down by my words and the weight of my sins._

_Fear, fear of myself, fear of myself, all these books on the shelf, yeah they're dusty again._

He turned to the window. The rain came down harder, through the dark green trees lining the side of the road. The sky nearly black. He was sure there was a memory like this. A memory where the rain poured whilea voice spoke quietly, the words caught in static. A voice that was so familiar. A voice that had called out to him on the bridge. A voice who had said the words that had triggered the flashing memories that sometimes in his head, that had triggered the remembrance of fragments of a life he didn't want to know. He didn't want to know what he lost, or what he had done.

_Now, I see it's me, my splintered eye, climbing up the wall, waiting for the fall._

_Tonight, I think I'll lose my mind, carry me away, carry me away._

_I sit and watch the flowers grow, some day they'll die._

_I sit and watch the world behold, carry me away, carry me away._

"You okay?" Cara said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glanced sharply over at her. She frowned. "Your eyes got all distant." She lifted her hand off the steering wheel, waving it for emphasis.

Bucky nodded, turning out the window again. The rain had gotten worse. He could barely see out the window. Cara was leaning forward, squinting through the rain.

He saw it at the same time she did. A figure stood in the center of the road.

"Shit!" Cara said, swerving. She desperately tried to straighten it. Unfortunately, the ground was just uneven enough to make them flip, despite her best efforts. It took less than a few seconds for Bucky to collect himself. This was not his first car crash. They landed on the driver side, so Bucky was above her. He moved so that when he undid his seatbelt he wouldn't fall on her, and opened the door, letting in the torrent of rainwater. He heard Cara coughing. Glancing down, he saw her, struggling to sit up and not cut her hands on the glass.

"You okay?" He called down to her. She groaned in response. He sighed, grabbing her upper arm, and pulling her out after him. As he put her down next to him, he looked up at the road, seeing the same figure staring down at them, in a fighting stance.

Bucky felt his fist tighten, preparing for whatever was going to happen next. Cara was cradling her arm, hair matted from the rain. She was shaking slightly, and would obviously be no use. She was glaring upwards, in the same direction as him, not at all afraid.

He turned back, as a burst of lightning lit up the man's face. His eyes were feral, mouth twisted into a snarling smile. As the light faded, the man lept down, hand extended like a claw. Bucky lifted his arm, at the same time pushing Cara away. The man's nails collided on his arm, scratching the metal with a series of sparks, and a sickeningly high pitched sound. The man's other hand lashed out, catching his shoulder. He could feel the nails tear a gash, and kicked him hard in the chest. Bucky wasted no time pulling a knife from his pocket and walking forward. The man grinned.

"Barnes," he said, sneering. "I heard you were messed up by HYDRA. Pity."

Bucky hesitated. "How do you know who I am?"

"What? Don't remember me?" He lunged forward, narrowly missing Bucky's face, as he punched him in stomach. Bucky grunted, flipping the knife in his hand, and slamming down into the man's back. The other man stumbled back, towards where he had knocked Cara, hand flying towards the embedded knife. Instead of falling the ground, he grinned, and yanked it out, hurling it to the ground at his feet. Glancing down at the fallen woman, he yanked her up, putting his claws at her neck. He dug in his fingernails enough to make it bleed, the blood mixing with the rainwater, and running down onto her shirt.

"You made quite a lot of noise, Barnes," he said. "Caught a lot of people's attention. Now, if you don't want to see me tear out her throat, you'll come with me."

Cara gripped his hand, trying in vain to pull it off. Her green eyes met his. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. Quietly, she let her hand drop to her side, pulling out a knife of her own, and quickly slashing at his arm, nearly severing it at the wrist. The man howled, pulling sharply back, releasing her. It gave Bucky enough time to run forward, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the road. Her injured arm was still tucked up to her chest.

After a few minutes, when there was no sign of them being followed, he slowed.

"Who was he?" Cara said, trying to catch her breath. "He seemed to know you."

"I've never seen him before in my life."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes!"

She nodded. He looked at her. She must've been freezing. Her jacket had been left in the car, her shirt soaked with blood and water. Her wet hair stuck to her face and arms, a dark red color. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was a scar on her chest, just under her collarbone. It looked like it came from a knife, or something like it. Glass or debris would have left a more jagged line. Her hand was still in his. He released it quickly, stepping away from her. She began to walk forward, and her arm was probably sprained or broken from how she held it against her chest.

"Let me see," he said, surprising himself. She paused, looking back.

"What?"

"Your arm."

"Oh," she said. She extended it tentatively. He roughly took it, trying to ignore how she winced when he did. He softened his touch slightly. He wasn't used to caring for other people's injuries. Hell, he wasn't used to caring for to caring for his own. Usually, a specialised team of doctors did that for him. It didn't look broken, at least.

"You'll be fine."

He pushed passed her, beginning the walk down the road. She followed him, silently.

After a few minutes, he turned back to her.

"Where did you get that knife?" he asked her. The way she had handled it. Like a professional. Somehow she had managed to slash it to give them enough time to get away, nearly taking off his hand. And she wasn't panicking. There was something about her. Something that made him sure she was not exactly who she said she was.

"I told you I can take care of myself," she said. She smiled slightly. "Do you really think I would pick up a hitchhiker and not be armed?"

"I wasn't hitch hiking," he mumbled. She rolled her eyes, walking beside him. While there was still a decent amount of space between them, he could feel her beginning to shiver violently. He sighed again, pulling off his coat, complete with the bloody gash in the upper arm. He placed it on her shoulders, not meeting her eyes. He didn't need it really. He had a higher tolerance for the cold. She blinked up at him.

"You didn't need to do that."

"Don't waste it," he said. She pulled it tighter around her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded, looking forward. Anywhere but at her.

They continued down the nearly abandoned road in silence.

**A/N: **I hate writing fight scenes. Just putting that out there.

Also, first time we're seeing something from Bucky's perspective. Hope I captured him well... Which is hard when you have nothing to go on other than like three lines after he's literally had himself rewritten.

I wouldn't expect another update this soon after one for a while... I just get so excited when I first start posting stories.

A note on the bad guy in this chapter... In this story, all the Marvel movies (MCU, X Men, Spiderman, etc) take place in the same universe. And in this story, both Wolverine and Sabretooth, back when they were "friends", occasionally joined up with the Howling Commandos for missions... Make of that as you will.

The song here is _Carry Me In _by Cage the Elephant, and is one of the b-sides, so it would never be heard on the radio. I'm not sure why I included it, other than the lyrics work beautifully for the story. It's where I got the title.

This was a long author's note, I'm truly sorry. Thank you for reading and I hope to see you all next time.


	3. His First Choice

It wasn't long before it stopped raining, ending as suddenly as it began. Dark gray clouds still crowded in the sky. They were both still soaking. A car approached behind them, slowing the way Cara had.

"Was that your car back there?" The man driving asked.

"Yes," Cara said.

"We couldn't stay," Bucky said. He didn't He didn't want this man to know they had been attacked. Cara looked at him, and he shook his head.

"Do you two need a ride?" He asked. Cara nodded. Bucky frowned.

"Better than out here," she said, too quietly for the other man to hear, stepping closer to the car.

"I'll have to ask you two to ride in the back," he said. "You understand."

"Of course." She slipped in. Bucky thought for a moment. He didn't have to go. He didn't trust this man not to be working for someone. He'd get in another fight, and he could get hurt. He would win, he had doubts about that, but it would make running and hiding a lot harder.

Cara looked at him expectantly from the car.

If this man was looking for him, he would not hesitate to use an innocent woman to manipulate him. Hell, she had already gotten hurt, just because she had stopped to give him a ride, and been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cara was, unfortunately, very much tangled up in his life right. She'd be in danger, and he owed it to her until she got to where she was going to keep her alive, and away from people like... Well, from people like him.

He slid in next to her. There were boxes in the far seat, so Cara was in the middle, and he was pressed rather close to her. She looked at him.

"So, where are you two headed?"

"New York."

"That's ways away."

"If you could get us to someplace where I can call for a friend, that be great."

"Sure thing."

Cara smiled gratefully. They sped off. He tried not to notice how she sat, trying not to touch him, still holding her arm at an awkward angle. He tried not to notice how she was still shivering, even wrapped in his large coat. He tried not to notice that even soaking wet, hair and makeup messed up, that she was rather attractive.

He shook his head. He couldn't get distracted. He had make sure they both got out of this alive. He kept an eye on the driver, and around the car. Cara finally gave in, brushing against him. It was against the arm HYDRA had given him.

As soon as he thought the name, suddenly he was back, being suited up, for his last mission.

Kill Captain America.

He had remembered them telling him. Only knowing that to be true. Only knowing that.

He didn't remember feeling afraid.

He didn't remember feeling anything.

He had felt numb, cold, dead.

He really was the Winter Soldier.

Cara placed a hand on his arm, the first contact she had willingly made with him. He flinched at her touch.

"You're doing it again," she said quietly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

She didn't move her hand, shaking her head. "You're a strange one, Bucky."

"You are have no idea," he said. She kept her hand where it was.

They fell silent for a few minutes, no one speaking. The longer they went, the more Cara seemed to grow comfortable around him, leaning into him slightly. He knew why. She was afraid, even if she didn't show it. She had every right to be. He'd get her out of this, and then she could go back to living her safe, boring, old life and forget she'd ever met him.

But she never could. there would always be the possibility that someone would remember the woman who helped him, and that they would use her, hurt her, kill her. She didn't know how afraid she should be. She shouldn't have helped him. She wouldn't have, if she knew who he was, what he had done, and who would come after him.

She didn't know who he was, and he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted to keep the horror out of her eyes, the fear. She shifted slightly next to him. She wasn't shivering as much, at least.

"Are you sure _you're _okay?" He asked her suddenly. He didn't know why. She looked up at him, seemingly shaken from her own thoughts.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Your neck is scratched, and your arm..."

"I'm _fine_, Bucky."

He nodded, bringing his attention back to the man in front of him. He couldn't quite tell how old he was, his light hair pushed back, and his eyes lined in dark shadows. He looked like he hadn't slept for days. Bucky was confident that if it came down to a fight, he could win. He forced himself to relax slightly.

After about thirty minutes, they reached a ancient gas station, which had a payphone out front. Everything was cracked and covered in dust, dirty and unused. The man had given them some money, and left. Cara slipped inside to use the phone, while Bucky waited out front, arms crossed. He was fairly confident that no one here meant them any harm, although the young man at the counter was giving Cara a leering look. He glared at him, as Cara stepped out.

"My friend is coming by to pick us up. She's a little... Eccentric, but she's dependable."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"Where are you going after this?"

He hesitated before answering. "I don't really know," he admitted.

"Well, you can stay with me," she said. "Until you can find your own place."

He blinked in surprise. "Why are you being so kind? You have no reason to trust me."

"But I do," she said. For a brief moment, her face was open, and he could see grief, and misery, and worst of all, empathy. She understood something about him. She understood him. Then, he blinked, and it was gone, and her face was free from any and all emotions again. "For some reason I cannot fathom, I trust you, and I think that you need help."

He shrugged. "I guess I do."

"I have an extra room. You're welcome to use it for as long as you need, as long as you help me in upkeep."

"Thank you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

And it was then he knew. They would never stop hunting him. And because Cara had helped him, they would never stop hunting her. If he didn't stay with her, she would be lost.

He had a new mission, and it was not an assignment, but his choice. His first choice in a very long time.

He was going to protect Cara Fox.

**A/N: **Avoiding Statistics is only reason I ever write anything, I swear. Another early update. Really. I wouldn't get used to it. This was originally part of the other one, but weighed it down a little, so I split it up. Thank you for reading, though, and I hope you like it!


	4. And That Was That

Together, they sat, backs against the wall, waiting for their ride.

It would take a while, and they sat in mostly silence. Cara didn't ask many questions, and for that he grateful. He didn't ask any either. The silence was not uncomfortable, and after a long while of not saying anything, Cara turned to him.

"Why are you going to New York, if you have no where to stay?"

He thought about his answer carefully. "I guess I just need to figure some things out."

"Like what?"

"Like who I am."

"Ah. So, like a path to self discovery?"

"You could say that."

"Well. I guess I need do the same. Maybe we'll find ourselves together." He stared at her. She smiled slightly, before glancing onto the street. "Oh. Here's our ride."

Cara's friend came barreling down the road, their sleek red car a model Bucky didn't recognize. They, whoever they were, slowed to a stop, jumping out.

It was a young woman, her light hair cut short, save for a few braids here and there. Her light blue eyes were very pale, like ice. She wore a black leather jacket, and tight black jeans, and black lace up boots, the only color on her was a dark blue shirt, and gold necklace around her throat. He could see black tattoos just under the collar, and under her sleeves. When he looked even closer, he saw that one arm was badly burnt, her left one. She ran over, grabbing Cara's arms. Cara winced, and she pulled back sharply.

"Cara! What the hell happened? I'll I get is cryptic call saying you were in a accident, and need help! Jesus! I thought you were dead or something."

"Hey, Sybil."

"Are you hurt? What's wrong with your arm? Where's your car? Who's he?" Sybil spoke very fast, the last question a nod in his direction.

"Right. This is my friend, Bucky. He's going to live with me."

Sybil stared at him, taking in his obviously ragged appearance. Her eyes almost seemed to dissect him, taking apart every aspect, every secret. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Okay," she said, shrugging. "Just as long as you aren't a murderer, or anything."

Whoops, he thought drily.

She turned back to Cara. "Are you hurt? Your shirt is covered in blood."

"I screwed up my arm. The blood is just from a scratch," she glanced at Bucky as she said this, and he shrugged. "Some guy attacked us on the road."

"What?!"

"Yeah. Just a crazy."

"Hey now. I'm a crazy... You're not being followed or anything, right?"

"The rain took care of that," Bucky said, without humor. Sybil grinned.

"Well, we have nothing to worry about then."

"Get in, losers," she said. Cara rolled her eyes.

"You've been marathoning early 2000's movies again."

"Hell yeah," Sybil said, moving back to the driver's seat. "Last week was nineties. Week before eighties."

"Great."

"I know right?" Sybil sounded extremely pleased with herself. "We need to go shopping. You need new clothes. You both look awful. No offense. And I so do not want to go hunt through a car wreck for all your probably ruined clothes."

"Can you just get us home?" Cara sounded mildly exhausted.

"Fine. Shopping later."

"Good," she said. Bucky looked at the car again. He'd have to sit in back. Cara glanced at him.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"We're still a few hours out."

"I know."

She smiled a ghost of a smile, and slid into the passenger side.

He got in behind her, turning out the window, and he overheard their conversation.

"Soooo, how did you two meet?

"At the Smithsonian."

"Are you a history nerd too?"

Cara looked back at him. He shrugged.

"I guess," he said.

She smirked. Sybil began to to talk quickly to Cara about a bunch of people he had never heard of, an he allowed himself to disappear within his mind, which, as it turned out, probably wasn't the best idea.

He was suddenly back in another time, watching a man in another building, through the scope of a gun.

He didn't remember his face.

He didn't know him. He didn't know who he was. He didn't know why he had to die. He just knew that had to kill him.

It was raining.

He was tired.

He was cold.

His hair hung in damp strands in his face. It wasn't as long then, but it still got in the way.

He heard music.

Gentle, swaying music, coming from the party in the room below the man.

He had need to get away.

He had needed to breath.

And it was his undoing.

His finger tightened in the trigger, but there was a woman.

Her back was to him, and she was wrapping her arms around the man, hugging him, her long black hair loose, and dress white. It was a contrast. Black and white.

She wasn't supposed to be there.

And he pulled the trigger anyways.

The glass shattered.

The sound almost matched the music below.

They both fell to the ground. There was no black and white. Just red. Deep, running red.

He knew they were dead.

He knew they were dead because he was good at what he did, and they never survived.

And he didn't care.

He didn't care, until he was remembering it, now, in Sybil's car.

He killed them.

That woman wasn't supposed to die.

He killed her in cold blood.

He ended her life. He ended both their lives.

His breath began coming in sharp, quick succession. Every muscle was tense, hands were balled into fists.

He heard Cara's voice, speaking gently, quietly, in front of him.

It was a long time ago.

_He felt the cold wind on his face._

He couldn't lose control.

_He heard the glass shatter._

Not here.

_He saw them falling to the ground._

Later.

_He knew they were dead._

And then there was her voice.

He felt himself practically latch onto it, letting it drag him out of his memories.

He snapped out of it, heading back, suddenly aware of the conversation in front of him, forcing his fingers to uncurl.

"-With everything that's happening, I don't think I can work for him."

"So, we won't be working buddies?"

"It's co-workers, Sybil. And no, probably not."

"Aw. I was looking forward to it."

"I just... Need to get away."

Sybil glanced at her. "Why aren't you freaking out?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your car crashed. You said you were attacked. Most people would be freaking out."

"I'm not most people, Sybil."

"I know that. But you could react like a normal person for once."

"Why would I that?"

"You're insane, Cara."

Cara was silent for a moment, before she turned around suddenly, looking at him.

"You've been awfully quiet."

He opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say. He couldn't tell her about the memory.

"Just thinking," he murmured finally.

"We're going to be there soon."

"I thought we were ways away," he said.

"We were. Hours ago. Like I said, you've been quiet for a awhile."

"Oh."

Cara stared at him, obviously dying to ask something. She shook her head, deciding against it. She turned back up front.

And that was that.

* * *

Cara had told Sybil over the phone, when she knew Bucky wasn't listening, that she was going into hiding, needed help, and that under no circumstances from this point on, could Sybil discuss her relationship with Natasha, Clint, SHIELD, or the Avengers around her or anyone else. If anyone asked about her, she would deny knowing where she was.

Sybil was an excellent liar.

She could even be trick Natasha occasionally, although Sybil respected the spy too much.

Sybil had understood, and when she arrived, thankfully did not question why she was traveling with a mysterious man who had a habit of falling silent for hours at a time, and wore a glove on his left hand.

She knew Sybil was smart. Smart and observant, and that she would put two and two together, and eventually realize who he was.

Luckily, she probably wouldn't find all the information on the Winter Soldier. There would be plenty of other things for her friend to a snoop on. Because that's what her darling, dear, best friend was: A snoop.

Sybil was going to be the only person who knew where she was.

Her only connection to her old life.

"So, have you decided to take that job with Stark?"

"Hmm?"

"My boss, Tony Stark offered you a job. Before SHIELD got all fucked up."

"Oh. Right."

"Are you taking it?"

Cara shook her head slowly. "No. Probably not."

"You have nothing better."

"I just don't think it's a very good idea right now. I kinda need to lay low, and working for Stark wouldn't be very... Smart."

"No, I get it. He's egotistical. Reporters _everywhere_, all the time."

Cara nodded. "I just don't think, with everything that's happening, I don't think I can work for him."

"So, we won't be working buddies?"

She felt herself roll her eyes. "It's co-workers, Sybil. And no, probably not."

"Aw... I was looking forward to it."

"I just... Need to get away."

Sybil glanced at her, and she could feel herself being solved like a puzzle. "Why aren't you freaking out?" Her friend said after a few moments.

"What do you mean?"

"Your car crashed. You said you were attacked. Most people would be freaking out."

"I'm not most people, Sybil."

"I know that. But you could react like a normal person for once."

"Why would I do that?"

Sybil laughed slightly. "You're insane, Cara."

Cara thought about it. Yeah, she guessed she was. Insane. What sane person, who would already be in hiding, would go looking for the most dangerous and notorious killer in the world? Especially when that man would be hunted as well? She turned around to the as before mentioned assassin. He looked up at her. His eyes were tired, pained. He looked like he had just thought of something bad. He probably had.

"You've been awfully quiet."

He opened his mouth slightly, obviously wondering what to tell her.

"Just thinking," he said at last. He glanced away, not meeting her gaze.

"We're going to be there soon."

He blinked in surprise.

"I thought we were ways away," he said.

"We were. Hours ago. Like I said, you've been awfully quiet for a awhile."

"Oh."

Cara stared at him. What was he remembering? She saw the signs. He had had remembered something. Something that hurt him... A lot. Was he okay?

No. She knew the answer.

He was very far from it.

It would be a long time before he was okay again.

She knew that.

She turned back to the front.

And that was that.

**A/N: **Sybil is so fun to write, I love her. She's actually the main character in another story of mine, one that hasn't been published. If you're curious (and are in the Superwhomerlock fandom... Not that all of it is important), I'll work on getting that ready for publication. She won't be playing a very big role here in the slightest, just a friend to Cara in times of need and such.

Anyways, thank you for reading, and I hope I didn't disapoint.


	5. Mind Like Glass

Bucky soon learned to never get in a car with Cara's friend ever again.

She drove recklessly, swerving into other lanes, looking away from the road for long periods of time, shrieking at the other drivers.

Cara was completely unfazed, sitting perfectly still like there was no chance of dying a violent, fiery death. Evidently, she was used to this. Bucky certainly was not.

He comforted himself with the fact that if they crashed, his enhanced genetics and his training would ensure that he'd probably live. Probably.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DRIVING? HOW DID YOU PASS YOUR TEST? GO BACK TO DRIVERS ED, YOU BAG OF HORMONES, YOU LITTLE FU-"

"Sybil," Cara said. "Breath."

"Shh. It's how I cope."

"Cope with what?"

"Human stupidity."

"Sure. Right."

They were in the city, at least. A few blocks away from Cara's apartment.

"OH MY GOD, THEY ARE WALKING IN THE STREET. THE STREET, CARA,, THE STREET! IF YOU GET HIT, I AM SO NOT FEELING SORRY FOR YOU, YOU BRAIN-DEAD MORONS."

Which was a good thing. He didn't know how much longer he could last. Cara glanced back at him, shrugging sympathetically.

"THANK GOD WE'RE HERE."

You could say that again.

Cara climbed out, and he followed her. Sybil looked at them both, although she looked much critically at him.

"Need anything else?"

"Nope."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"I'll be here."

"I know."

"Right. Bye, Cara. Bucky," she added his name on like a second thought as she looked coolly at him. He nearly shivered under her gaze. Nearly. He was used to the cold.

Cara waved to her, as Sybil drove off, nearly killing a couple crossing the street, and leaving the two of them alone. Bucky glanced up at the building. It didn't look too expensive, but from what he could tell, was in a nice part of town. He wasn't really sure what was considered nice anymore.

As for the danger, it was surrounded by other tall of buildings of equal height. Depending on what floor they were on, a sniper could get a good shot at them. He'd have to make sure that everyone living in the building were safe to be around. But it seemed okay. As a temporary place to stay.

Cara was watching him. Carefully, she tilted her head, and together they walked through the front doors.

* * *

Cara opened the door to the apartment, which lead to a narrow hallway. He followed, seeing that it lead into a small kitchen with a table, and what looked like a living room, complete with a couch and television. It took a sharp right into another hall, where Cara was turning. At the end was a closed door, and there was one, closer, hanging slightly ajar. Cara pushed her way into nearest one, and he followed her.

"Here you are," she said, standing back. He looked at it. It was empty, save a bed pushed against the wall, a window in the corner, and desk to the side. Someone had obviously just moved out of it. One box was in the corner, and he could see the marks on the walls where pictures had hung before.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

She stepped away. "I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

He nodded, standing in the middle of the room. He felt her eyes trained on him, and looked up to meet them. Her gaze was dark, like she was trying to figure something out. As soon as she caught him looking at her, the expression was gone, replaced quickly with the carefully constructed blank calm. She gave him a small smile, before disappearing into the shadows, like a ghost.

He stood there, unsure of what to do next. He hadn't exactly thought this far. into the future. He knew his job was to keep an eye on Cara, make sure no one hurt her to get to him. That was his first mission, his first self-assigned mission. She had helped him. She didn't have to, but she did. And he would not let her pay for that mistake.

His second mission... Well, his second mission was going to be figuring out who the hell he was. He was Bucky Barnes, best friend of Steve Rogers, who grew up in Brooklyn, and joined the army, not knowing what he was getting himself into. But he was the Winter Soldier, notorious, cold-hearted assassin with a metal arm, with so much blood on his hands, he'd never be able to wash it all off. He was a ghost story. He didn't know much beyond that.

He sat down on the bed. It had been awhile since he had slept on one.

He didn't know if ever had, while he was with HYDRA.

He shut his eyes.

The name triggered a flash of pain that ranged from his fingertips in his left arm to the base of his spine. He wasn't sure if he imagined it or not.

It triggered fragments of memory that cut his mind like glass. Falling to the ground, lying there for hours or days, he wasn't sure. But he was alone. Alone with the snow falling from the sky. Until they came and dragged him away.

He stood up quickly, moving the window. To survive, he could not focus on the past. He had to do what he did best. And that was think like a killer.

* * *

After changing out of bloodstained, rain-soaked clothes, she felt much better. Thank god her contacts had thought of everything. She had given them a cover story, and an address, and they had put together an apartment that looked like she had lived in it for months. There were pictures on the walls, and food in the kitchen, and even a TV with about a hundred channels.

Cara knocked on his door, leaning in. He stood by the window, arms crossed. He spun around at the sound. He still hadn't taken off all his layers, his arm carefully hidden from view. God, he'd needed new clothes too. He had only had the one bag, and that had been left in the wreck.

"Do mind if I run out?" She asked. He shrugged.

"No. I'll just be here."

"I'll be back soon."

He looked at her seriously. "Be careful. If anything happens, you find me."

She blinked. "Okay."

"I mean it. If anything happens."

"What would happen?"

He shrugged again. "A lot of things."

"Fine. Okay. I'll find you."

He nodded, turning back to the window.

"Bye," she said. He didn't respond, keeping his gaze frozen on the glass. She sighed quietly, and left without another word.

* * *

Cara came home, bags hanging off her good arm. Her other one would be messed up for a while, as she was pretty sure she had twisted in the crash. The memory was still a bit fuzzy, but she knew she was lucky to have not broken it. Walking into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Bucky sitting at the table. She placed one in front of him, keeping the one with her replacement documents in her hand.

"What's this?" Bucky asked, looking at the bag in front him.

"I picked up some clothes for you," she said. "Just the basics. You can go out later and get more."

He took it, looking at it closely, before looking up at her. "You didn't have to do this," he said quietly.

"You lost all of it in the wreck, and I was the one who was driving, so," she said. She looked at him apologetically. "I hope nothing was important in there."

"No. Not really. And it wasn't your fault."

She glanced at her watch. "Hey, what do you want for dinner?" He stared at her. "I'd try to make something, but it's late, and I can't actually cook, so..."

"Whatever you want," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"You need to have some input," she said. "You're living here too now."

He shrugged. "Whatever you want," he repeated

"You're impossible," she sighed. "Fine. If you hate it, you don't get to complain."

"I wouldn't."

She glared at him good-naturedly. "Fine. Pizza, then," she said. He nodded, not speaking. She sighed again, taking her phone out, and placing the order. It came quickly, and they ate in silence, only to be broken when Cara had finished, looking at him as she leaned back, crossing her arms.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"Never really was a problem before."

"We're just going to fix that, aren't we?"

He gave her the first smile she had seen, although it was small and humorless. "You can try."

"I'm going to succeed. I'll get you to talk to me."

He shook his head. "I don't have much to say."

"I think that's a lie," she said. "You have a lot to say. You just aren't used to being able to say it." She glanced at him, extending a hand and touching his arm. He flinched. "I'm gonna go to bed."

"Okay."

She stood up, walking passed him, her fingers trailing over his back as she walked away, disappearing into the hall

"Night," her voice echoed back to him.

"Night," he said in return, not moving from his seat.

* * *

Cara sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard, eyes shut. While she was certainly not any Natasha, she knew how to keep herself safe. had done security checks around the perimeter. Nothing was unusual. No sign that they were being watched. No sign of any trouble.

So far, they were safe.

Well, as safe as they could be. As safe as she could be. She sighed. Some part of her still wondered what she was thinking.

What had she done?

He hadn't done anything to suggest that he was a deranged assassin. But she had seen his near breakdowns. What they did, it messed him up.

He was messed up. Worse than she was, and she was the poster child for having a bad history.

She sighed, bringing her knees to her chest.

The thoughts about the Natasha, and her history, brought her back.

_It must have been, what, six years ago now? Just after a mission gone south. Very south, as Cara had had her cover blown, gotten into a fight, a bad one, had to be rescued, which cost the life of a good agent. A friend of hers._

_She stared out the window of the small office, as the door opened._

_A young woman, not much older than herself walked in. She had long red hair, cool green eyes, and an attitude that expressed that she could probably kill her without batting an eye. Oddly, they looked vaguely similar. _

_"Hello, Cara Fletcher," she said. "My name is Natasha Romanoff, and I'll be overseeing your training."_

_"Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow, huh? I heard you were with us now."_

_"I had a change of heart."_

_"So. You here to babysit me?"_

_"Train you."_

_"I don't need training."_

_"An agent died because you lack the basic skills needed in this world."_

_Cara flinched._

_"You're not a fighter," Natasha continued, ignoring her. "Your specialty is to be the smartest and look pretty. Which I'll admit, you're good at. Very good. But you're not a fighter, and I'm here to fix that."_

_Cara glared at her._

_"I'm fine. I've been surrounded by S.H.I.E.L.D. practically my entire life. I know what I'm doing."_

_"No, you've been protected your entire life. I'm here to break that comfort zone."_

_"Why?"_

_"Cause that's what they tell me to do."_

_Cara turned her glare to the ground, crossing her arms. The corner of Natasha's mouth twitched. _

_"So, are we ready to begin?"_

**A/N: **So, a little bit of a filler chapter here. But, hey, little, tiny bit of Cara back story, and bonding and stuff... I'm sorry that this was late. I was slammed with homework this week, and it nearly killed me. Most of this was written on a four hour car ride, so there's a very strong possibility of typos and mistakes. I'm sorry if there are, and I'll try to fix them later.

Also, I've been to New York twice, so I have no idea how accurate any of this is. I honestly don't know how daily life is there, I'm sorry if it's bad.

Thank you for reading, everyone, and hello to my new readers, there are a lot of you! See you all next time!


	6. Soldier, Insomniac

**A/N: **A "fun" song for this chapter is Wires by the Neighbourhood. I just heard it in a Stiles/Nogitsune video, and it immediatly reminded me of Bucky. Oh, the things you can find when you watch your favorite characters go insane.

Soon after rescuing Steve Rogers from drowning, Bucky's memories started coming back. Well, some of them, anyways. He couldn't remember anything before Zola began the experiments on him, save for a few flashes here and there that told him he was not born in that room, that he was not born repeating a stranger's name. That he had had a life before, a life that was stolen from him.

He could barely remember the rest of the war. It was a blur of gunshots, and bombs exploding, of forests, a shield, one he would later pick up, twice. Of a blonde man, who he knew to be Steve Rogers, being a hero, and saving people. There were others too, not as clear. His trip to the museum had given him names but, that was all he had. And then there was him... And he wasn't a hero. He was a shadow of what he would become.

His missions, with Hydra, were usually the sharpest, clearest. The horrible things that were done to him, and more importantly, the horrible things he did. Those were the ones that haunted him most clearly.

And then there was the fall.

There was always him falling.

That constant, mind numbing fear of the drop.

During the day, he could fake it. Being fine, being okay, keeping memories pushed as far away from his consciousness as he could.

But the moment night fell, he was falling with it.

He went to bed right after Cara did. He kept waking up, in his new bed, sure that that scream was real, or that that a ghost he had killed really was standing above him.

Before, right after he had stolen the clothes and hid in an abandoned warehouse, he had forced himself to sleep. People would be right on his trail, and he'd be no use sleep deprived. Frankly, he had been so exhausted, it had been easy those first few days.

As time went on, however, sleep became a harder thing to manage. It was when he had no control. It was when he was the most vulnerable. It was when he remembered.

Finally, after three hours of restless, war torn, bloody and painful sleep, (if you could call it that) he got up, leaving his room, to find Cara sitting up at the kitchen table, head in her arms. He sat down across from her. Her head snapped up. Her eyes were bright and red. If she hadn't been crying, she had been close, thinking of something painful.

"Bucky," she said. She checked the clock on the wall. "It's really early. Can't sleep?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yup."

"What's your problem?" He asked, wincing slightly as he heard how it sounded.

She shrugged slightly, not taking it badly.

"Sleeping is for losers," she said, with a yawn.

"I can see that," he said. She smiled. He tried to return it, but a fragment of a memory, the image of him beating in the face of killed it. She met his gaze.

"So, since neither of us are going back to sleep," she said. "What do you want to eat?"

He shrugged. "Not this again."

"If by this, you mean eating food, then yes, we are doing this again."

He stared at her, completely silent. She sighed dramatically, leaning back in her chair, and tilting her head. It was dangerous, exposing her neck like that. If she was a target, than he would be able to slip up behind her and slit her throat before she knew what hit her. The fact she had a some trust in him would make it that much easier. And the fact that had analysed how best to kill her, simply out of habit, made him feel slightly sick. Her hair fell from around her shoulders as she stretched, the deep red standing out in the dim light. He looked away from her, at the wall, watching her sit back up in the corner of his eye.

"Fine. You get your own. It's not my job to mother you," she said. "Food's in the cabinets. Eat whatever you want. I'll be back."

She got up, leaving him alone again. He continued staring at the wall, listening to her close the door to her room, and after a few minutes, he heard the pipes creek, letting him know she was taking a shower.

He sighed, not moving. He wasn't hungry, so he'd tell her he's eaten. She had said she hadn't wanted to mother him, but he had a feeling she would, he thought with a small smirk.

He rested his head in his hand, keeping his eyes frozen on the table. His other hand, the metal one, followed along the lines on the woods. The repetitive, simple motion had a strangely calmly effect.

His heart, which he hadn't realized had been beating very fast since he had gotten up, began to slow. He breathed deeply, shutting his eyes.

How was he going to keep doing this?

Could he even?

Maybe the old Bucky could, or maybe the Winter Soldier could. But he was neither. He was nothing. He had no orders, no past, nothing but a self-assigned mission he wasn't even sure he could carry out. How could he protect someone else if he wasn't even sure what was happening in his own head?

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He jumped, lashing out, catching their wrist. He blinked. Cara stared back at him, her expression even, if a little pained. Her hair was wet, hanging in her face. His hand tightened slightly. He couldn't feel her pulse, even though his finger were just over ... It was his metal one. Well, shit. He had forgotten to cover it up. He had no idea how to even begin explaining it to her, if she asked.

"Bucky?" She said cautiously. He nodded, releasing her, and turning back to the table. She sat down next to him. "Bucky... I don't know you very well. But you're not okay. Even I can tell that."

"Just trying to figure some things out."

"You can tell me about it."

"No. No, I really can't."

She bit her lip, and nodded. "If you ever change your mind..."

"I'll let you know."

"Promise?"

He turned so that he faced her, and she faced him. Their eyes met.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He asked.

She sighed. "I don't know. I honestly don't. But I can hope."

He dropped his gaze, and it landed on her wrist. There was a red imprint from where he had grabbed. It was already much more swollen than her other one.

"That was your hurt arm," he said suddenly. His eyes widened as he realized why she had been in pain when he had grabbed her out of pure instinct. "The one you sprained in the crash."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already at the door, chair knocked to the floor. "Bucky, no, wait-"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pausing in the door, one hand braced on the frame. She stood behind him. "I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't-"

"Why didn't you stop me?"

"I don't-"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, cutting her off again. He could feel her gaze on his back. His hand tightened into a fist, and with that he disappeared back into his room.

**A/N: **Poor Bucky. I just want to give him a hug sometimes.

Sorry it's a bit late, but better late than never, I guess. I've been doing all sorts of fun reading on PTSD to try and portray it right, so I hope I did a good job. This was shorter than I thought it was going to be. I originally was planning to have some Cara POV, but that would have take longer to write, and didn't really fit, so I'll just put it in the next chapter. Thank you all reading, it means a ton to me. I hope you're enjoying this so far. I certainly am. See you all next time!


	7. What Spies Do Best

Cara leaned in the door of her room.

She hadn't thought this through.

Well, she had on her part. She had planned out every detail of her past, present, and future. She had a job that she would start tomorrow. A good one, at a bookstore. She had never really had had time to read for pleasure before, and she'd really like the chance to try it. She had a place to stay, she had money. _She _was fine.

No, it was the man who she recklessly decided to protect that she was worried about. Not only was she going to have to keep him away from himself. She flexed her wrist. It was discolored, bigger than the other. It wasn't broken, luckily, but it was enough to keep her out of the game for a bit. That could prove disastrous. It already bad, before she had scared him. He could have broken it. He had held it at an angle that if he hadn't realized who she was, he would have snapped it. She really need to learn if it had weakness. Natasha would have known, or Clint. What would they do? Probably make sarcastic comments about how she should think for herself, and how she go practice shooting again.

He did feel bad for what he did, that hadn't been a lie. She knew when people were lying. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. But, he had... She could only imagine what would happen if she scared him more. Like reveal that she had, at one point, work for the organization he had taken down.

She had taken in a ticking time bomb. That, in of herself didn't bother her. She had lived among time bombs her entire life. Hell, she could be considered one, hence the intense therapy sessions Fury had forced her to attend during her first ten years she spent at SHIELD. The majority of her childhood. And then there were the occasional ones here and there... Just to make sure she hadn't lost it yet. She felt like they would be pretty sure she had, indeed, "lost it", whatever it was, if they saw her now.

But Bucky... He was the main problem here. If he ever managed to figure out who she was, well, it wouldn't be pretty.

Another thing she hadn't thought of. She had to get him to trust her. Someone has to trust you to let you protect them. (Fury had had had her run protection missions before. She was good at them, although not as good as getting information.)

Most of the time, it was easy. Figure out what kind of person they needed, and become that. Figure them out, and play along. A subtle nod here, a touch on the arm there. Maybe some shared history, better with a grain of truth. With spies, it was harder. They kept their real selves so buried, she had to work to uncover them. And their pasts were often so messed up... whatever got you in the game was usually not the best. Take Clint. Take Natasha. Kinda hard to emphasize with them, and people like them, when she was supposed to be a normal civilian.

The thing was, with Bucky, the only way he was ever going to trust her (and it was going to take a while), was if he knew absolutely nothing about her. She couldn't use her usual way of doing things. There could not be any blatant similarities in their past. But she could play this game.

Allison Cara Fox was just a mysterious woman with a bit of a bad past that kept her up at night. And she could work with it.

So that was step one. Find common ground, one she could talk about. They didn't exactly have a lot to say to each other yet. He was closed off, trying to sort out his own head. She had get him to open up to her... And that meant mining every single emotion she could.

She smiled.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

Cara knocked on the door of his room. There was no answer. She really didn't expect one.

"Bucky?" She said. Only silence answered her. "Bucky. Say something."

Nothing.

"Hey. I know you're upset about earlier. But that wasn't your fault. I scared you."

Nothing.

This wasn't right. She opened the window was open, curtains rustling. Running over, she looked out. There was no sign of him, anywhere. Bracing her hands on the window frame, she stared out into the street.

Great.

Along with the fact that he had who knows what on his trail, she was guessing that Hydra didn't let him out for field trips. She didn't doubt his capability to handle the modern world, but it was hard to keep yourself safe in unfamiliar circumstances.

Now, think.

Where would he be?

Where would a man who had nothing left go?

She paused.

Where would a ghost story go?

Where do ghosts belong?

* * *

Bucky placed his hands on the wooden frame of the window, quickly lifting it open. Slipping through, he dropped to the fire escape, scrambling down to the street below, all the while completely silent. He stayed not quite hidden, but more... Unnoticeable, as he walked through the nearly empty streets. The sun was just beginning to rise.

Being in that empty room, it felt like it was suffocating him.

He had just... Had to escape.

He wasn't sure where he was going. As he wandered through the streets. he kept his mind empty. His footsteps were silent as he walked forward, out of habit. Slowly, he stopped in front of a gate. Looking in, he saw rows of dark stones. He shook his head, backing up.

He had no idea how he had ended up here.

He had no idea if this was just some random graveyard, or if it meant something to him. To Bucky. To the Winter Soldier.

He didn't care. He had enough ghosts without intentionally unearthing more. This was not a string he wanted to pull on.

He walked quickly in the other direction, wandering back through the streets, trying to backtrack. Somewhere in his head, he had kept track of how he had gotten here. Another helpful habit. He was about halfway back when he saw her. Slipping back into shadows, he carefully watched her.

She looked lost, her red hair stood out in the early morning sun as she glanced around, obviously looking for him. She shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. It was cold, wasn't it? He hadn't noticed. Probably the result of being frozen so many times. He never really noticed. She kicked a rock into the street. He watched her glance up slightly, obviously lost in thought, not looking behind her as she stepped into the street, not seeing the car speed at her.

His throat tightened, and any thought of trying to keep himself hidden left his mind as he rushed forward. His metal arm wrapped around her as he pulled her back.

She spun around, her green eyes meeting his, hands catching his arms, and he felt an irrational surge of anger. Making his job harder. He glanced back into the street, wondering why the hell he thought this was ever a good idea.

* * *

Cara saw him. She pretended not to, as he was practically melded into the shadows. Any untrained eye would not have spotted him. He was watching her, leaning against the wall, expressionless. She glanced around, making a show of looking for him, and crossing her arms against the cold as she walked down the street. That had provided an emotional reaction once, when he had given her his coat. Maybe, seeing her out here, suffering for him, would invoke the same response. She bowed her head, wrapping the jacket tighter around her.

He didn't move.

She sighed, allowing herself to express her frustration by kicking a rock, watching as it flew into the empty road, into the dull beam of distant headlights. She pretended not to see them, as they gave her an incredibly stupid idea.

Either a very good stupid idea, or a very bad, very reckless, probably going-to-kill-her one. She took a deep breath, waiting a few more seconds, pretending to be lost in thought. As the lights became brighter, she stepped into the street, pausing as they hit her face. The tires screeched.

Suddenly, she was yanked back sharply, onto the sidewalk, a metal arm wrapped around her waist. She spun around against him, catching his arms to keep herself steady, breathing heavily as she looked at the place where she had just been standing, the car rushing by. She couldn't believe that actually worked. She took a deep breath, looking up to see Bucky glaring down at her. He held her very tightly, and she unsure if he meant to or not.

"How often do you almost die?" He said irritably. Honestly, it had to be the longest sentence he had said to her.

"I was looking for you!" She snapped. "You ran off and I was worried."

He let her go, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Come on," he said, walking quickly forward. Cara followed him, speeding up until she was by his side. He barely acknowledged her presence.

Silence seemed to stretched on forever. Cara sighed loudly.

"What?"

"This is killing me."

"What is?"

"The silence."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Say something. Ask something. Don't make me be the rude one."

"Fine. Why were you awake this morning?" Bucky said, glancing down at her as they walked side by side. She looked thoughtfully ahead, carefully keeping her face neutral. In fact, she locked it down completely. He picked up on it. "You don't have to an-"

"Two years ago today was someone's funeral," she said quietly. "Someone very close to me."

He looked forward again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "It wasn't your fault. It was psychopath's fault. And now he's gone. And justice is served."

"He's dead?"

"Or some jail. Not sure."

"Aren't you curious?"

She looked up at him. "What's the point?" She said, unable to keep the apathy from her voice. "I never want to spend another moment thinking about his pathetic life. I wasted too much time already."

"Who was he? The man who killed him."

Cara sighed, wondering how much to reveal. All she had said so far had been mostly true. Mostly. Why not keep it up? As long as there were no specifics. "You know the attack last year? The one on New York?"

Bucky nodded. He had probably read about it at the museum.

"I blame the one who started it. Loki."

She didn't leave out any of her loathing for him. She hated him. She hated him for killing Coulson, and causing countless other innocent lives to be lost. She hated him for manipulating Clint, threatening Natasha. Those were her friends. And if she had been there, she could have helped. But no.

"It could have been me," she said aloud. She was just talking now. She didn't mean to tell him any of this. She wasn't even sure if he was listening anymore. "I was gone on work. If I had been there, it could have been different. I could have saved him."

She stopped, feeling her heart begin to race again. This was a mistake. Talking about this left her too open. Too vulnerable. Already, she was having trouble controlling her emotions. _Get it together, Fox. You're not going to be of any use to anyone if you end up having a breakdown_.

She shut her eyes, breathing deeply. She covered her mouth, with both hands.

_Agent Fletcher, we thought it best you know, given your relationship with the deceased-_

"Cara," Bucky said, breaking through her thoughts. She looked up at him. He stood in front of her, watching her intently, with an expression that almost bordered on concern. "You okay?"

She blinked, running her hands through her hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Just like that, she was. Or at least, she could tell herself that, even if it was a lie.

He tilted his head, not looking convinced while he turned back, beginning to walk back. She joined him again, keeping her coat pulled around her. Her arm hurt. Maybe not getting sleep was a bad idea today. It had left her more open to... This.

But, despite it all, she knew that it was beneficial. She had revealed something very deep and personal, something that couldn't be replicated. Something about her that wasn't an illusion. She was one step closer to her goal of having him trust her.

Now, she just had to do what spies do best, and lie.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long, I kept procrastinating, and then all of a sudden, school got really crazy, and I just didn't have time to think. I hope that this makes up for it, even if it does seem a little bit depressing right now. Hopefully, one of the next few chapters will be lighter. And I've reread/rewritten this about thirty times, and I'm still not sure it's my best.

This was pretty fun to write, as we got to see a bit more how Cara's mind works. She doesn't think like this all the time, but to her, this is a mission she has to carry out, and so she's kinda put on her spy mindset.

Sidenote, I don't hate Loki. Cara does. Just so we're clear. I know that people can get very protective over some characters. Loki's cool (Frostgiant pun there. I'm so clever)


	8. Trust

It was about seven in the morning when the two of them got back from his little early morning excursion. Cara didn't say anything else, keeping her gaze away from him, and on the floor. She seemed to shut herself down after her breakdown. He didn't blame her. He could relate, and she could keep her secrets.

Her hand was steady as she unlocked the door. The keys glinted in the dim light of the hall, as she pushed open the door, pausing to look at him.

"I'm not usually like that," she said. "Today's just a... It's just a hard day."

He didn't know what to say, opening his mouth slightly. "I understand," he said finally, settling for the most diplomatic answer, even if it was a blatant lie.

She nodded. Something flashed over her face, but he wasn't quite sure what it was, and she was already turning into the apartment.

As he followed her into the narrow hallway, her red hair loose and swinging down her back, he watched her carefully. She had a story. He was curious. He didn't know if it was the Winter Soldier who wanted answers, or James Buchanan Barnes, or a mix of both. Whatever he was now, he was curious. And yet he knew he wasn't going to get any answers. She didn't strike him as the type to give away her secrets easily. This morning had been a something he wasn't sure he was supposed to see.

She paused in the kitchen, eyeing the cabinets. She glanced down at the keys in her hand, a thoughtful expression coming over her face.

"We should go shopping," she said. He stared at her. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?"

"That one. We need to get more food. And I still need to replace some things from the wreck. And get you your own key."

"Why do I have to come?"

"I want to know more about you."

_No, you really don't_, he thought.

Instead, he said, "There's not much to know about me."

She raised her eyebrows. "You are a liar."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"There is a lot to know about you. You are a mystery."

"So are you."

"Well, then," she said. "It's decided. We're both going." She moved past him, to her room. "I'll meet you out here in an hour. Get ready."

He didn't say anything, didn't move, just stood, perfectly still in the middle of the hallway. She turned back, gesturing impatiently at his room.

"Go," she mouthed, before walking into her own room. He sighed, stalking into his room. He paused. He was going to go out into public. Maybe he should clean himself up a little. He was covered in dirt, and dried blood that he kept forgetting about. His last shower had been at a homeless shelter in DC, right before he had decided to come to New York.

He slipped back out into the hall, turning into the bathroom, giving her door a glance.

After he had cleaned himself up, he had found his coat and gloves. They weren't for her 'd seen his arm, and hadn't seemed bothered by it (which, in hindsight, did seem strange.. He'd look into later. Observing Fox while they were out would possibly provide more information). But for now, he'd wear them as not to give anyone any more clues that could identify him as the Winter Soldier, the mysterious masked man with a metal arm who had shot up DC.

He was a murderer on the run. Some people wanted him in jail, and some wanted him to become an asset for them. Just stepping out was going to be risky. But he knew risky. He had carried out operations the bravest wouldn't dare touch, not that he had much of a say in the matter. There were not many who could take him on and live to tell the tale, that he was confident about. It was a calculated risk, and he was willing to take it. The worst that would happen would be having to go on the run again. He knew that was going to happen anyways, eventually.

It was a big city, and one more face wouldn't be noticed, as long as he was careful. He looked in the mirror. It was the first time he had looked at himself, since that picture in the Smithsonian. He didn't look much like that anymore, he thought somewhat bitterly. He was a different person, and he still had no idea who that person actually was. His reached up his metal hand towards the reflection, suddenly struck by how similar this felt, to something else. But he didn't remember what. He didn't want to remember. Somethings were best left buried.

* * *

A song echoed through the store, playing lightly on the speakers from the stereo. He wasn't paying attention, dragging a basket with him as he followed Cara around.

_Well you can hide a lot about yourself,_

_But honey, what're you gonna do?_

_And you can sleep in a coffin,_

_But the past ain't through with you._

Cara turned back to him. "I'm getting your key, I'll be right back. You can get whatever you need. I'll meet you at the register." He nodded, keeping his gaze away from the security camera to his left. She walked off, in the direction of the hardware center, leaving him on his own. He looked around. The store was empty, not many people being up and about this early on a weekend. Something caught his eye. On a rack was a magazine, and on the cover was Steve Rogers.

_'Cause we are all a bunch of liars._

_Tell me, baby, who do you wanna be?_

_And we are all about to sell it,_

_'Cause it's tragic with a capital T._

_Let it be, Let it be, Let it be!_

The cover read, _Captain America: Heroics, or Havoc? _Bucky felt a sharp jolt of anger at the title. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming that all Steve had ever wanted to do was help people, that he didn't care about being a hero. Steve was the man that everyone should try to be like. He didn't know how he knew this. He just did. It had started out like a ghost of a feeling when he had saved him, and had grown stronger with every day.

_'Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends._

_And we all get together when we bury our friends._

_It's been eight bitter years since I've been seeing your face._

_And you're walking away, and I will die in this place._

It was his fault Rogers was getting this. He had caused the havoc, and Steve was getting the blame. The magazine in his hand crumpled as he tightened his grip.

"Bucky," Cara said. He turned sharply to see her standing by his side. She looked at the magazine in his gloved hand. Carefully, she reached over, putting her hand on top of his, loosening his fingers. He let her do it. As she put it back on the shelf. Turning back to him, she placed a small metallic object in his hand. A key. She looked up at him, keeping her hands around his. "Are you ready to go?"

He nodded mutely.

She let him go, and some part of him missed the feeling of her holding him. It had made him feel less alone. She grabbed the basket, pushing it to the register. He followed her. As Cara unloaded the cart, he saw Rogers' face staring back at him again, with the same caption. He reached forward suddenly, turning the magazine around, unable to take the accusing stare, or the stupid words any longer. Cara gave him a strange look.

"You're being weird," Cara said, as she finished taking items out, and placing them in the checkout, paying for it easily.

"You're being weird," he grumbled. He couldn't resist the juvenile response, as he glared at her.

The cashier looked between them. "You two make such a cute couple," she said.

Cara looked up in surprise, as Bucky glanced away uncomfortably.

"Oh, no, we're not together," she said, gesturing between them. She looked at him. "We're just... Friends?"

"Yeah, friends," he said quickly. The cashier gave him a sympathetic look. He shot Cara a confused one. Why the sympathy? Cara tilted her head towards the door, indicating she'd explain it later.

"My mistake," the cashier said, handing him their receipt. He handed it to Cara, who stuck it in one of their two shopping bags. He took it from her. It would be more efficient for him to carry it. She smiled at him, nodding in thanks. "Have a nice day!"

"You too," Cara said pleasantly, walking quickly away. As he followed, he could feel the woman's eyes on them, like she didn't quite belive him.

"Why did she give me that look?" Bucky said, as soon as they were outside. "She looked like she felt sorry for me."

"She probably thought I was friend zoning you, or something" Cara said, laughing slightly.

"What does that mean?" He said.

"It means I just completely killed any hopes of us ever having a romantic relationship. And she felt bad for you."

"Why? What's wrong with being friends?" Cara looked at him. He felt genuinely seemed baffled. She shrugged.

"Good question, and I don't know the answer," she said. He shook his head, falling silent. "Where to next?"

Now it was his turn to shrug.

"We can get stuff for dinner tonight?"

He nodded.

"Right. This way."

* * *

Bucky was pushing the cart, as they walked through the small grocery store, leaning on the handle, while Cara walked in front of him, occasionally pulled something off the shelf and tossed it in. She glance back at him.

"Is there anything you want?"

He shook his head. She rolled her eyes, turning back to the front, although she kept her hand firmly on the front of the cart.

She paused, glancing passed him. "There a someone watching us," she said, nodding behind him, "Do you know them?" He resist the urge to freeze where he stood, instead glancing casually behind him. A man, stereotypical in what he thought most agents looked like, black suit, nondescript face. He was clearly an amatuar though, staring right at them, not attempting to hide that he was observing them. Even Cara, with no experience, had seen it.

Bucky looked at Cara. She was nearly expressionless, as was usual, glancing between him and the man. He released the basket, stepping away, as if to distance himself from her.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly. "Stay here." She looked slightly anxious, as she took in his serious expression.

"Alright," she said. He turned back to the man, walking over confidently, who made no movement, to hide, or run, or fight. He just stood there. watching.

Bucky stared at him, feeling every bit of training come back. He felt himself stand taller, and straighter.

"Why are you looking at us?" He said. He felt himself slipping slightly into another accent, another voice. A hint of a Russian one. The man looked at him, tilting his head. The sunglasses kept him from being able to make out his face. The only clue was the slight movements he made.

"Do you know the story of the Firebird? It's Russian, though I don't suppose they ever let you read those."

"Who are you?"

"Well, in a rare retelling every night, a golden apple would be stolen to from a garden. And the king wanted to find out who it was who was stealing it. His son saw the bird, and told the king of it's beauty. The king was transfixed, and he sent his son, out into the world, and the prince found a Wolf. The Wolf, being a creature of winter, did not like the warmth, and lead him right to her."

His head tilted indicating he was glancing behind him.

"Her hair is quite the shade of red. Like flames, don't you think?"

Bucky shifted. "What do you want?"

"Oh, Winter Soldier. Is that how they taught you to get information? By simply asking and assuming I'll answer? Maybe you aren't as good as I thought."

"Retrieving information was never what I was best at.I will give you one more chance. Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

The man looked at him, face unreadable.

"Who says we are here for you, Soldier?"

Bucky fist tightened.

"Keep an close eye on your friend. She is not all that she seems, and if you don't, you might just... Well, you might just lose her."

The lights went out, plunging the small windowless store into darkness. The fire alarm began to flash, illuminating everything in brief sparks of light. Bucky swore, as he spun around, the words about Cara ringing in his ears, although he was hesitant to turn his back on the man, even for a moment. This all seemed to planned, too careful.

There was no one by the cart.

Cara was gone.

"Fox!" He yelled, spinning around to demand the man tell him where she was. But there either. It was like Agent had turned to smoke. He was alone in the aisle. Walking quickly forward, he looked around. There was no one in the store at all. His heart began to beat faster.

"Fox, where the fuck are you!"

"Bucky?" Her voice echoed.

"Cara!"

She was standing in the back, alone as well. He walked quickly to her side.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah... Just thought I saw something."

"I told you to stay there."

"I _thought _I saw _something_."

"What?"

"I don't know. Something."

"Cara, tell me what you saw."

"I don't know. I'm not sure."

He sighed, glancing store was empty. "We need to go. We need to go now."

"Alright," she said. He grabbed her arm, almost dragging her towards the exit, so that they wouldn't be separated from each other, if anything happened. As they stepped out into the sun, he glanced around, pulling his hat down, blocking his face. He walked quickly. They were a few blocks away from the apartment.

If he could get them there, he could figure this all out.

After a few minutes, Cara began asking questions

"Bucky, what's happening?"

"I just have a bad feeling about something.

"Bucky, I want answers."

"Please trust me, Cara. Please," he said, No one was following them. There was no sign of anything usual. The double doors of the apartment were only a few feet away. He pulled her sharply in.

She sighed, "Alright. Alright. But I want answers. Later."

"Okay."

The ride in the elevator was silent, as Bukcy thought about what he had to do. He had to make sure that apartment was secure, that no one was waiting for them. And then, he had to investigate what the man had said about Cara.

"She is not all that she seems."

Cara was a point of interest to others. And that could mean danger. He had to know every varible. He had to, or they would do something to her. Not just to get at him, but because she was special. Special people never lasted long.

And the memory of her hands on his made the idea of that almost painful.

As she opened the door, he cleared his throat.

"Thank you," he said. She looked at him, slightly surprised.

"For what?"

"For trusting me."

She blinked. "No problem."

"No. Most wouldn't. You have no reason to. I don't even have any reason to."

"Bucky. I trust you. I have good judgement. So, trust me on this one."

He was at a loss for words.

She put her hand on his arm. "Just... Not right now, but one day. Trust me."

She turned and left him standing there in the hallway, alone again. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the key she had given him.

_Trust me._

He sighed, and shut the door.

_Trust me. _

How could he trust anyone, ever?

_Trust me._

And why... Why did he want to so badly?

**A/N: **What is it with me and B-Sides from forever ago that will never be heard in stores. Like seriously, I started listening to My Chemical Romance again, and I've been going on writing sprees listening to all the songs. Man, I miss them.

In other news, I updated! *cheers*

And it's sort of long! *cheers again*

And I got to use my favorite trope of being mistaken for a couple heh heh heh.

Thank you everyone for reading, and welcome new readers! Heads up, it's finals week next week, so I'll be panicking. Last update for 2014, probably, so I'll say it now. Happy holidays everyone!


	9. Reynard Amatus

The day passed without incident, and it turned to night. Bucky hadn't slept again, but he had a feeling that wasn't going to change anytime soon. He had gotten up early, avoiding Cara for much of the day, until she had walked passed him, wearing a dress, and jacket, heading out. He watched her carefully, not asking where she was going, not expecting her to tell him. It was a surprise when she spoke to him, her voice cutting into his thoughts.

"Hey, Bucky," Cara said, walking to the door. "I'm heading to work."

"Where's that?"

"A bookstore a few blocks away. I'll be home by five at least."

"Okay."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Alright. See you later."

"Yeah."

She was gone in a second, no mention of the day before, of the man, or his request. After they come back, he had spent hours validating her story, to find some reason for her to be important. He half expected her to be a cover, for Cara Fox to have been a lie. But (and he was... happy to say), Cara Fox existed. She was perfectly normal. Had lived in a few places throughout her childhood, graduated high school, then college, before working for a small company that went out of business. She had found another job, which she had abruptly quit after only a few weeks. She had moved around a bit, before moving here. She had some family in DC, which was why she had been there, when she met him. Probably checking up on them, after what had happened.

As far as he could tell, she was exactly who she said she was. There was nothing more to her.

And that made him even more uneasy about that man's would they want with Cara?

He got up, pacing around the room as he tried to think about.

He could ask her. He could ask if there was anything usual, and then she could have her guard up. But he didn't see what good that would do other than frighten her. He wasn't sure that being on guard could protect anyone from people who could disappear like smoke.

They might have said that just wanted to mess with him. To get inside his head, to play some sick mind game with him.

That also made him even more anxious about growing attached to her. If this was a game, and they (whoever _they _were) won... He shuddered to think about that. As much as he hated to admit it, when he had lost sight of her at the store, he had felt genuine worry for her. Not the mission. But _her_.

He shouldn't care about what happens to this stranger, this woman who had wandered into his life, other than that she was his mission. He had to protect her. That was the first choice he had made in his new life, and he would die to fulfill it. That was all he knew. Finish the mission, no matter what.

The longer he stayed here, they bigger the window for something to happen.

He grabbed his gear, his coat and hat and gloves. His gun and knife were hidden away, ready to be used.

She wouldn't be that hard to track. There was only one book store in the range she said. He wasn't going to fail his first mission. He wasn't going to fail. He was not going to fail Cara Fox.

* * *

Bucky leaned against the building across the street, watching the entrance to the store. Not many people went in, but he did not have a visual on her. He waited. The minutes stretched on, and he began to feel more anxious.

Finally, he stepped away, deciding to go inside. It would be easier to keep an eye on her if he was near her, and it would be easier to help if anything happened.

As he crossed the street, he kept repeating those words in his mind.

Do not fail your mission.

Do not fail her.

Do not fail Cara Fox.

Do not fail your mission.

* * *

Cara stood at the counter, hair pulled back, as she read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. It was the first in a very long list of things she wanted to read. The fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. was probably the best thing in the world for her literary life.

The other woman, Mavis, who was the sister of the owner, was busy stacking books on the shelf next to her, from the new shipment they just got in. Cara had offered to help, but the woman had smiled kindly, and told her to keep reading, shocked that she had not yet read it. Cara had wanted to explain that there had never been time, that SHIELD didn't exactly prioritize literature, but she had smiled, and thanked her.

"I cannot believe that you have read Frankenstein" she had said, shaking her head, her short, graying hair falling into her face. "Kids these days. That used to be my favorite book."

"What's your favorite book now?"

"Oh, my dear. That would be like asking who is my favorite child."

The bell on the door rang. Cara looked up. Bucky walked in. She put down her book.

"Hey," she said. He glanced at the woman stacking books, and walked over to her.

"I wanted to check on you," he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed. He looked at the book in her hand.

"I'm doing fine," she said. "It's a slow day."

He nodded, shifting uncomfortably, obviously unsure of what to do now. He looked at the bookshelves.

"Do you have any history books?"

"Oh., yeah, definitely" she said. "What time are you looking for?"

"Anything. Preferably World War II to present, but... Anything."

She nodded thoughtfully, as she walked around the corner, then waved him over to a shelf in in the back of the room.

"Anything you want to know, and more," she said. He stared at them. She noted his eyes quickly darted to the biographies, taking in Steve Rogers', and glancing quickly away. She noted that he also took in that there was one on HYDRA, and on famous assassinations. She noted that he did not seem at all disturbed by the contradictions about his place among the pages.

"Is this what you were looking for?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so."

"I'll be up front if you need anything."

"Thank you, Cara."

"No problem, Bucky."

She began to walk away, pausing as he called out to her.

"Can I stay here? Until you're done? Then walk with back with you?"

"Yeah, sure."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll be up front if you need anything."

As she sat back down at the counter balancing on the edge of the stool, she found herself having trouble focusing on the words, and drifted off into her own history.

_Cara threw a punch, quickly blocking the fist aimed at her side, ducking as another one swung at her head. Natasha moved with all the fury of a storm, not going easy on her for a second. Cara could barely keep up. The Russian assassin swiped at her legs, knocking them out from under her, and just like that, she was down. Cara landed hard on her side, gasping. Natasha stood up quickly._

_"You almost made it three minutes in that time," she said. Cara groaned, struggling into an upright position._

_"This is not fair in the slightest."_

_Nat smirked, before she glanced behind her, and Cara turned around to see Agent Clint Barton walk up. She stood up, hands on her hips._

_"What do you want, Barton?" Natasha said, crossing her arms, and looking serious again. Cara knew it was an act. Clint was one of the few people she acted human around. "Come to try and challenge me to a shooting contest again?"_

_"You're getting off lucky this time, Romanoff. Your trainy won't get to see me beat you," he said. "Coulson sent me to get her." He nodded at Cara._

_"Great," Cara said, stretching. "What does he want?"_

_"Didn't ask. But you were supposed to meet him thirty minutes ago, so," he nodded towards the door. _

_Cara stared at him. "What were you doing for the past thirty minutes?"_

_He shrugged. "Stuff."_

_"What?"_

_"Coulson sent me to get you. You're late to you're meeting. I was doing important stuff."_

_"Oh, my god. How are do you even work here?" She said, storming off to the wall to get her bag._

_"As it so happens, I'm very good with a bow."_

_She glared at him. "Where are we meeting him?"_

_"Oh, not me. Just you. His office. Have fun."_

_"Barton!" She snapped, running off._

_When Cara made it into Coulson's office, she found him waiting at his desk. Another man sat in the chair across from him. They both looked at her._

_"Agent Fletcher, how thoughtful of you to arrive."_

_"Sorry, sir," Cara said. "Barton waited until now to inform me of the meeting." She sat down across from him, glancing to the man on her left. A sharp gaze, brown hair slightly long, and what was probably a permanent troublemaking smirk. Coulson smiled slightly._

_"Cara Fletcher," he said. "This Agent Reynard Amatus. He's your new partner."_

_Cara looked at him, analyzing him, and he returned it. "I've never had a partner before. I've never needed one."_

_"Fury wants to try something new."_

_She nodded, bitterness kept easily off her face, and out of her voice, knowing better than to argue. "Yes, sir."_

_He handed them both a file. "You're already being assigned your first mission, leading a small specialized team. You two are our field agents. We'll have a team backing you."_

_Amatis paused, speaking up for the first time. "It says we're leaving tomorrow." His accent was British, but Cara knew that in this line of work, he could be from anywhere._

_Coulson smiled again. "So it does."_

_"Sir. We've barely met," she said. "We're not ready to run a mission together. It's a recipe for disa-"_

_"I need you to trust us on this one. It's nothing difficult. The mark is a hacker who happened upon some of our funds. He's not a threat yet. But we need his laptop. He may have stumbled upon somethings he shouldn't have. Can you do it?"_

_They glanced at each other._

_"Yes, sir," they said in unision._

_"Good. Check back in with me before departure tomorrow."_

_They both stood up, and walked out._

_"So, Agent Fletcher," he said. "How bad did you mess up to get landed with me?"_

_She looked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"You're a legend around here. A little bit, at least. Agent Cara Fletcher. Raised inside SHIELD, one of Coulson's pet projects. So, how'd you get stuck with me?"_

_"I'm sure you're fine."_

_"No. I messed messed up big time. So, either you're being punished, or I am."_

_"Look, Agent Amatus-"_

_"Aim."_

_"Aim?"_

_"Short for Amatus. Reynard sounds old. Reynie sounds young. Aim sounds right."_

_"I'm not calling you that, Amatus. Look, we both screwed up. So they're killing two birds with one stone and monitoring us both, make sure we can still work. They're going to be watching our every move."_

_"So, are we going to let them?"_

_"Yes. We don't have a choice."_

_"God. You're as goody two shoes as they say. I bet you've never broken a rule in your life."_

_"It's hard to break rules to when you have the biggest defense program in the world breathing down your neck for every minute of every day."_

_"Good point. I'll fix that soon."_

_She glared at him. "I don't like you."_

_"Already?" He looked shocked. "I'll have to fix that too." He began to to walk down the hall, leaving Cara alone with her bag. "It seems, like you said, Agent Cara Fletcher, that we will be seeing more of each other."_

_And it was true._

"Cara, love," Mavis said. "You're off now." Cara looked up, glancing at the clock

"Well, look at that," she said. "Where's Bucky?"

"He's where you left him, still reading," she said. Cara smiled and nodded, walking over to him.

"Bucky," she said. He looked up from where he sat on the ground, a book about the fifties in his hands. "Find what you were looking for?"

He shook his head. "I don't know if I ever will."

"Need my help?"

"No. Not yet."

She extended her hand, pulling him to his feet, as he smoothly put the book back onto the shelf. He paused as looked down at her, his left hand, in a glove, curled around tightly around hers.

"Is your arm okay?" He said. He pulled her sleeve back slightly, eyes darkening as he saw the finger sized bruises.

"It's getting there," she said, and he nodded slowly, looking slightly guilty, letting her go.

Cara pulled on her jacket over her dress. Bucky wasn't looking at her, his gaze flitting into the street, as he pulled his hat down over his eyes.

"Goodbye Cara," Mavis said. "And goodbye Cara's friend. I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you."

Cara shivered at her words.

Bucky glanced sharply at her, before nodding at the other woman. As they walked outside, she walked closely to him. There was something familiar about him.

He glanced down at her as they walked.

"Are you cold?"

"No. I just... Remembered something."

And so they left, Cara walking with more than one ghost.

**A/N: **Cara backstory yay.

I'm having fun with Bucky's psychology if you haven't guessed. A lot of fun. *cue evil laughter*

I got stranded at the bookstore, and found the Hawkeye comics, and wanted to have Clint here. He was sort of a last minute edition. (meaning, I read like three comics hiding in the back of a Barnes and Noble's while hoping no one would notice me, and also found some time to write. Great fun.)

And a sort of long update. Happy holidays, everyone. I'm on break, and I really want to write another chapter here before I'm forced to go back to the Ninth Level of Hell, so here's to hoping.

See ya all hopefully soon, and thanks for reading!


	10. The Meaning of Smiles

The news played on tv, when Cara saw a familiar face.

Natasha.

It was footage from a while ago. A month, at least. She had missed it.

Cara held the remote in both hands, behind the couch, staring as Natasha pushed through the gathering crowd of reporters, as some newscaster discussed the threats of the ex agents. She didn't notice her fingers turning white around the remote.

"Romanoff, I swear to god, if you get yourself arrested," she murmured. She knew she wouldn't. Natasha would be long gone. Hopefully, everyone would. That, or take a job with Stark. No one would mess with them, then.

"Cara?" Bucky said, walking in. She jumped slightly. He looked at the tv, gaze hardening, as he stood next to her. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "People are being stupid."

He watched the screen carefully, bracing his hands on the back of the couch. His metal fingers twitched slightly.

"The Black Widow," he said, almost to himself. Cara glanced at him, and he spoke up louder. "What were they saying?"

"Talking about how all the old SHIELD agents are dangerous or something, like all of them were terrorists," she said. "It's not true. Not all of them, at least. They didn't know what was happening. They didn't have control."

"They didn't have a choice," he said again, quietly, to himself again. He pulled back, slipping away again. He paused in the doorway, looking back at her. "Even if that's true, Cara, they can still be dangerous. Even if they didn't know what they were doing, even if they didn't have a choice. They can be dangerous."

Cara tried to speak, but found her voice had mysteriously disappeared, as did the man in front of her. She released a small breath, turning back to the screen, and turning it off. The screen clicked to black, plunging her into darkness.

* * *

_We're meeting for lunch._

Cara had received that in a cryptic text that could only be from Sybil. As her friend had neglected to mention a place or time, she had called her, and had finally, finally set up a time, at a place near Sybil's work. She had told Bucky that she was going, and he had nodded, after making her promise to be careful.

Where they were sitting was outside. The sun was out, and the food was decent. Sybil was, as usual, talking away. Cara found herself both not quite listening, and not eating, as she watched the cars pass.

"You decide to live in the same city as me," Sybil was saying. "But you refuse to speak to me. See, you're ignoring me."

"I talk to you, Sybil," she said. "I'm talking to you right now."

"Yeah," she said. "After like, two weeks. Is it that new guy? Is he replacing me? I hate him."

"Bucky? No, he's not replacing you. I hardly see him, honestly. He spends a lot of time alone. Mainly, he walks me to work, and walks me home. We eat together doesn't say much. I think he has a bit of a rough past."

Sybil snorted, stirring her spoon around in her soup. "Don't we all?"

Cara murmured in agreement, idly fiddling with the napkin. "How's working for Stark going?"

"Not bad," Sybil said. "I'm not the first SHIELD person to defect there apparently. And I wasn't the last. I saw Maria the other day."

"Oh, yeah? How is she?"

"Good. I think. As good as any of us can be. And, I get to work near my almighty science idol Bruce Banner."

"You don't bother him, do you?"

"Pssh, nah. Me? Bother the Hulk? Never."

"He probably has work to do. And so do you."

"Yes, mother."

"Promise you'll leave him alone."

"I solemnly swear that I will not poke Bruce Banner with a stick again."

"Sybil!"

"What? No one was paying attention to me. And he was really cool about it. I like him. He's my new buddy."

"I'm guessing this is a one way sentiment," she said. "Poor Banner."

"He sides with me against Tony in the arguments."

"He must be the most patient person on this planet, dealing with you two children."

Sybil stuck her tongue out at her. "Shut up. How's your life?"

"Fine. It's all fine. I like the quiet. It's a nice change."

"So, there's been no... Weirdness? You know since all your secrets have been split onto the Internet?"

"Nothing. It's kinda scary actually. I like the quiet, but this... This is bordering on silent."

"You know the Fridge has been breached, right? All the crazies are loose? All of them?"

Cara froze. "Yes. Yes, I did know that. I haven't seen any sign of any of them. And you know I would look."

"There's not many people who can help anymore Cara. HYDRA wiped out entire facilities. And those still out there have their own problems to deal with, their own bad guys. It's chaos. Everyone is fighting their own personal war."

"I know. That's why I went under. Cara Fletcher is dead. Cara Fox was born. I'm ordinary now."

"Yeah, right," Sybil said, snorting again. "Just wanted to make sure you knew."

"I did." She said, keeping an easy smile on her face. She didn't say that this was the first time that she was alone. That she was absolutely terrified, that there were people who she had locked up, people who wanted her dead, to pay for it, out there. That there were people worse than that out there as well. That she had sworn to herself to protect a man with, if possible, more enemies than her, when she wasn't even sure if she could protect herself. She didn't say any of this, and just kept smiling.

"I'll have Tony keep an eye out too," she said, raising her hand as Cara began to speak again. "And no, I know, don't mention you. You're supposed to be far away, in some magical land, like Canada."

"Thank you."

"If you need help, don't hesitate to call. You have two Avengers on your speed dial, and I have the Internet history of another."

"Do I want to know which one? No, nevermind, I don't."

"Not Banner. Not Rogers. Does hot Asgardian one have access to Internet? It's I'm not sure, but anyways, not him."

"Sybil, no."

"I could probably find a way to blackmail Cap, though. Do you have any embarrassing childhood stories about him?"

_I could ask Bucky, _she thought_. But somehow, I don't think that conversation would go over very well._

Instead, she said, "I am not helping you blackmail the Avengers! Especially not Captain America! The man's a practically saint, and a senior citizen!"

"A gorgeous one. Who was probably an embarrassing child, let's face it. No one can be that perfect, and not have accidentally lit something on fire in a chemistry class at least once."

"Just because you happened to do that every few days," Cara said. "That does not mean that normal people did."

"It was not every few days. Once in a while, a pencil would spontaneously combust, but half the time, that wasn't even my fault. And don't change the subject, we're talking about Uncle Steve's probably embarrassing childhood. Ooooh, I wonder if he ever had any bad haircuts."

"I never took part in conversation."

"You're no fun," Sybil grumbled, crossing her arms.

"No. I'm boring."

"Fine, you wanna change the subject," she said. "You should come visit me! I can show you my secret project I'm working on."

"I'm trying to lay low," she said. "When you inevitably blow something up, and all the major new stations are there, I want to be as far away as possible."

"But it's a great project!" Sybil said, leaning forward in her chair, with a conspiratorial look. "Listen. I can't actually tell you anything, yet. I'm mildly sworn to secrecy. But it's a-"

"I don't want to know," Cara said. "It's only going to make me worried, and I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Fine," she said sullenly, leaning back. "When I'm rich and famous, you'll be the last to know."

"I seriously doubt that."

Sybil stuck her tongue out at her friend again, and for a few moments, it felt like all was was going to be okay.

* * *

Bucky liked to go running in the morning, Cara learned. She first heard him get back, shutting the door quietly, as he came back. She watched him, through the crack in her door, come back, hair pulled out of his face, breathing heavily, hair pulled back out of his face. He stopped, leaning against the wall, staring at some point in space. Cara shifted her weight slightly, wincing at the sound of the floor creaking beneath her feet.

His head snapped up, as he looked sharply at her. Carefully, she slipped into the hall. He kept his eyes trained on her, making no move as she walked closer to him.

"Good run?" she said.

He shrugged. "I guess."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"As usual."

"You need to at some point," she said. "You can't spend your entire life running from your nightmares."

He shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly. "I can try."

Cara gave a short, slightly bitter laugh, hoping he didn't pick up on it, watching as his eyes .opened again at the sound.

"Trust me, you can't. I tried to too, and it's useless. You'll face them eventually, and it's always worse if you wait."

"How do you know that?" He said, raising his eyebrow.

"You're self destructive," she said. "You think you can destroy yourself, in the most painless way possible, and you don't even realize you're doing it."

He opened his mouth slightly, before standing up straighter and shrugging again.

"If you were me, you'd be self destructive too."

His tone was quiet, filled with self loathing, and guilt, and anger, and pain, and, almost undetectably, sadness.

Cara blinked, unprepared for his bluntness. And, it concerned her slightly. She was going to protect him, even if it was from himself. Stepping in front of him so that he caught her gaze, she watched him. He met her eyes briefly, before looking sharply away, no longer leaning against the wall. He caught her arms the same way he did when he met her, as if to keep himself steady. He made sure not to hold too tight.

"You're okay."

"Cara Fox," he said. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Cara looked up at him. He still didn't meet her gaze, keeping his head bowed, his eyes on his feet. His breath came short and fast, and he held onto her tighter. She reached out to hold his arms, keeping him steady.

"I knew him," he whispered. "That man on the bridge. I knew him. I knew him. I knew him!"

"Bucky. You're okay. Listen to me, listen to my voice. I'm right here, you're okay."

He finally met her eyes. Murmuring something she couldn't quite catch, he took a deep breath.

"Would mind if I ran with you tomorrow?" She asked.

His expression changed slightly, clearly wondering what had prompted the question.

"I wouldn't mind," he said. "If you can keep up."

"Is that a challenge?"

"If you want it to be."

"Oh, it's on now," she said. "I'm so going to enjoy beating you."

A small smile pulled at his lips. It was the closest thing to an honest one she had ever seen on him. She smiled back. He let her go, although neither of them moved.

"Now we can outrun our nightmares together," she said.

"Together," he repeated.

It felt nice to have that word mean something again.

**A/N: **I want to write a spin off about Sybil's adventures at Stark Tower now. It won't be for a while, because I won't to set up some more stuff about Cara's past, and there might be spoilers, but still.

I'm really not sure about the last bit. Like I've been obsessing over it for days, and now, I'm just giving up. *sighs*

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. See ya next time.


	11. Dust to Dust

**A/N: **Song for this chapter is Cities in Dust by The Everlove. There's totally a theme happening in this chapter, and I'm not entirely sure how it happened. *shrugs*

* * *

Steve Rogers hadn't slept in a while.

At least, it wasn't good sleep.

Whenever he had time, he had just lay there. Thinking about everything. S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA. Bucky. Sam. Fury. Natasha. The rest of the Avengers.

And if by some miracle, he did manage to fall asleep, he would see his best friend beating him in the face over and over and over again. Sam would wake him up, shaking his shoulder, never pressing. He knew Sam had nightmares too. They didn't talk about them.

He could tell Sam was worried about him. The other man kept glancing at him, as they searched for any sign of him. Of Bucky.

He was alive.

Bucky was alive.

"Steve," Sam had said. "When we find him... He might not be Bucky. He might not be who you remember. He might be another man with your friends face."

"I know," Steve said. "But I have to find him. I left him behind once, and I'm never doing it again."

"He might not give you a choice."

"I know. But I won't give him one either."

That had been days ago.

He stood by the window in the small hotel. It looked out upon an empty field, dust gently stirring in the wind. He ran his hands over his face. He was exhausted, and he knew it. They had taken a break from trying to track down Bucky taking out a few HYDRA operatives in the area. It had been easy, and as he hated to admit it, he had enjoyed it. All that pent up rage at the loss of his friend, and with no one to take it out on, it had worn him down.

He was just so tired.

The dust outside the window didn't settle until they left the small town far behind them.

* * *

_"Bucky," Steve said. They crouched on the side of the road, hidden in the undergrowth. "Let me do this. It's what I was made for. It's my job."_

_"No way in hell," he snapped. "You're not indestructible."_

_"I'm more indestructible than you," Steve shot back. Bucky felt himself almost flinch. Almost. They were surveying a HYDRA leader's house. The man had some valuable information, and they need it. Now. Someone needed to sneak in and kill the guards around the perimeter, but it was risky, and there was a very big chance that whoever tried it would not come back alive. That was what he and Steve were arguing about._

_"Look, I promised Peggy I'd get you back alive, so let me do this."_

_"What does Peggy have to do with any of this?"_

_"Goddamn it, shut up, and let me do this!"_

_He would never tell his friend this, but it wasn't just the habit of trying to keep his friend safe that made him want to go in his place. It was something else. Steve Rogers was a good man. And Bucky... Bucky wasn't, not compared to him. He didn't want to ruin that goodness. He was not going to have Steve Rogers taking lives when he didn't have to._

_He was gonna do it. He was going to save his friend. They may have turned his best friend into a weapon, arming him with steel and guns, but he wasn't going to let Steve Rogers take those bullets, until he lost himself. He wasn't going to let them turn him into something he was not._

_He was scared, yeah, of those guards, of losing Steve to himself or war, of dying, of being captured again, of how he could kill more accurately than anyone else here, of the cold that hadn't seemed to leave him since he returned from his imprisonment, settling in his chest. He was terrified. _

_And that is why he ran forward, ignoring Steve's frantic grab at him, and the following irritated hiss of "Bucky!"_

_It would be better if the world lost him than a good man. It would be better if the world lost Bucky Barnes than Steve Rogers._

_Taking out the first two guards were easy. They weren't really paying attention, making it incredibly easy to slip up behind them, snapping their necks. He was able to silence them as they died, leaving them unable to notify anyone else. He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut as he killed them. The apathy as he felt them die. They were hurting people, and he was stopping them, and it was his job, and it had to get done._

_The next job was going to be taking out the patrol that would be coming around in thirty second. Better trained than the first, but as soon as he got them, he could sneak into the house and signal that it was probably safe, and Steve could join him there._

_They had masks on. For a brief irrational moment, he thought about how annoying it must be to fight with a mask on. But as the both fell to the ground after brief struggle, him ending up with a shallow stab wound to the gut, he stopped thinking about it._

_Steve ran next to him._

_"I'm going to kill you, James Buchanan Barnes," he snapped._

_"HYDRA got here first," Bucky said, smiling grimly, and lifting up his hand, covered in blood._

_Steve's eyes widened. "Bucky," he said slowly. "Did you get shot?"_

"_Stabbed," he said. "But not bad."_

"_Not bad..." Steve said._

"_You're worrying about me. This is a change," he said. Steve shook his head, smiling a ghost of a smile, as he walked over, supporting his friend. "Let's go get your information."_

"_You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" Steve said._

"_See, this is how I felt for years," Bucky said. "Not very nice."_

"_Shut up, jerk."_

"_Punk."_

_Outside, the light snow swirled like dust in the wind, covering the forest surrounding the HYDRA household._

* * *

Bucky was watching Cara. She smiling, helping the customer find a book. He was sitting in the chair, a book balanced in his leap about famous mysterious assassinations throughout history. He wasn't quite sure, but he was sure at least one of them was his. He was trying to read, but his eyes kept drifting to where she stood. In the dim light of the store, he could see her laughing quietly, unable to quite make out the words she was saying. Her hair loose today, he noticed, glinting like flames. The more he sat there, the more he began to wonder if she was a distraction, from keeping her safe.

She glanced over at him, and he quickly looked back down at the book. The page had an illustration of a hotel, mapping out how a someone important was poisoned at one point.

A shadow fell over the book.

He looked sharply up.

Mavis stood over him.

"I never caught your name."

"It's Bucky."

"Bucky what?"

"I... Barnes. Bucky Barnes."

"That's a nice name."

He struggled for a moment to find the words. "Thank you."

"Why do you come here everyday?" She said gently, switching easily into the subject, ignoring Bucky's shift. "Is it cause you have no where else to go? Or is it for her?" She glanced at Cara. He stared at the woman in question for a moment, before trying to answer, without saying something along the lines of I'm afraid that the same people who want to get me will get her when I'm not looking, and kill her or worse.

"I just want to make sure she's okay."

Mavis nodded sympathetically. "You had it rough, I can tell. I can see it in your eyes. I had a friend once, with those same look. But you don't have to be here all the time. I can keep an eye on her."

"I... Thank you... But it makes me feel better if I can see her."

"I know. You care about her."

"I promised myself I wouldn't let anything happen to her. She's been nothing but kind to me."

"She's like that, isn't she?" Mavis said. "She cares about you, in the same way. I can how she looks at you. PShe isn't going to let anything happen to you either."

Bucky didn't know what to say, so he fell silent, turning back to his book.

"Have you read anything other than history since you've been here?"

"No."

The woman shook her head in disapproval, clucking her tongue. "I'll be right back."

Bucky watched her disappear into the shelves, listening to her footsteps on the soft carpet fade away. He looked back over at Cara, to see that the customer she was helping had moved closer significantly, leaning over her in an almost cornering fasion, with a look in his eye that Bucky didn't like. Cara was handing him the book, and explaining a concept, and smiling that smile.

The man took it from her, his fingers brushing hers. Bucky felt something drop in his chest. He suddenly had a very vivid picture of punching the man in his smug face, his fingers tightening at the thought.

"Here we are," Mavis said, handing the same book Cara had been reading before. He jumped slightly, out of his thoughts. "Cara had never read it, so I'm assuming you haven't either."

Frankenstein. The Modern Prometheus.

It sounded familiar.

"I think I did. Once. I don't remember."

"Oh, you'd remember. A mad scientist. A creature born of vengeance. Both of them monsters, in different ways."

Bucky looked at her in confusion.

"Well, the creature was a monster, but he had no choice about it. The scientist, the creator, he was a monster in a very different way. It makes you wonder who the true victim was. And if the creation, born unholy of man's pride and ambition, was ever as bad as his creator."

Bucky stared at it, before taking it slowly.

"I'm going to go rescue our dear Cara, before one of you commit a felony. No, don't give me that look I saw how you were looking at them, and I saw her face too. I'll be right back."

When she left, telling Cara to go do something, he looked back down at the book in his hand. The creature's face stared back at him.

Monster. But not if its own choosing. Not as bad as his creator.

He wondered if it applied to all monsters.

"Mavis said I can leave early."

He looked up sharply, seeing Cara standing near him, stacking a book on the shelf. The customer she had been helping had disappeared. "We can leave now if you want to."

"Okay," he said, standing up, and looking around for Mavis to give back the book. He caught her eye from the front desk, and she nodded to him, mouthing Keep it. Sliding it into his pocket, he followed Cara out the door, the little bell he had never notied there rang.

"Have fun?"

"She gave me a book."

"She does that."

They fell silent as they walked, Bucky doing continuous sweeps of the area to make sure they weren't being followed or watched.

"She seems nice," he said at last.

"There are worse bosses. You could probably get a job there with me if you wanted. She'd let you."

"Maybe I will."

At that moment, someone knocked into him hard, the book flying from his pocket, landing on the ground. A few of the pages were loose, and flew into the wind, like dust.

Cara knelt to pick it up, glaring after the man.

"Stupid New Yorkers," she said, handing it to him. He took it, keeping it securely in his grip, as they began to walk again.

"It's fine."

"Some of the pages are missing. You're not gonna get the whole story."

"I can figure it out."

"I'll get you a new copy tomorrow."

"Cara, it's fine."

She sighed. "Okay. Mavis could replace it for you-"

"I'm fine."

"If your sure."

"I am," he said. She looked up at him, still looking irrationally angry over the fallen book, and he felt the corners of mouth twitch at her expression. She shook her head, turning away. Together, they walked side by side back to the apartment.

* * *

Unknown to either of them, the same man from the store stood off to the side in an alley, watching them. He never followed them back to their home, only this far. He wasn't _rude_.

"Ashes to ashes," he murmured quietly, as he watched them fade away into the crowds. He knelt down, picking up a handful of dirt off the ground.

"Dust to dust."

It slid from his fingers like sand in an hourglass.

**A/N: **A LITTLE BIT OF EXPLANATION. The middle, backstory, flashbacky type part there was _extremely_ angsty (don't blame me, I grew up watching Lost), but I really wanted to show that Bucky was beginning to lose himself even before he became the Winter Soldier. And I miss Steve and Sam a lot, so there they are.

Stay tuned, for I have half written the next chapter, and there is fluffiness galore, to make up for all this very necessary angst. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


	12. This Dangerous Attachment

**A/N:** This chapter is slightly more lighthearted, and to reflect that, the song for this chapter is Out Of My League by Fitz and The Tantrums.

Not working with the most intense defense program in the world had it's perks. Sure, there was the lack of security, lower to no pay, absolute chaos, and the chance that at any given moment, she could be killed or arrested or kidnapped. But hey, now she had she had more time on her hands then she knew what to do with. And that meant she now got to sit, (somewhat awkwardly, she had to admit), in front of a tv, and actually get into a show, without the threat of being called in for a mission that new would cause her to obsess over it. Of course, she was technically on one, but she had literally nothing else to do.

It was the second episode of some show she had never seen before, but she like the acting. The titular character was a bit of an jerk, reminding her of a few people she knew, but she liked it a lot. The writing was clever. The story good. She never saw herself liking a detective show (she had to deal with too many people, a certain Stark for example, who thought they were some version of Sherlock Holmes to ever watch one for enjoyment), but honestly she was beginning to get into it. As the credits began to roll, she listened as the announcer said_, Don't go anywhere. Sherlock will be right back, here on BBC America-. _

"What are you watching?" Bucky said from behind her, making her jump slightly. He had approached, as he always did, completely silently. She turned to him. His hands were braced on the back of the couch like when he saw Natasha, standing over her.

"A detective show," she said. "Wanna watch with me?"

He glanced at the spot next to her, then back at her, hesitating before walking around and sitting down, putting as much space between them as he could, sitting like he was about to take flight at any moment. She smirked, turning her attention back to the television.

Watching a show with an ex-assassin brainwashed Howling Commando.

Now that was also something she had never seen herself doing.

Today was just a day full of surprises.

* * *

Bucky had been sitting in his room for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. He had been cleaning his gun (a SIG-Sauer P226... The same one that he had shot Steve Rogers with, actually. He ignored the mysterious feeling of nausea it gave him to touch it), when he had heard the sounds of voices coming from the living room. Sliding the pieces under the bed, still disassembled, and walked out.

It was just the stupid television.

The credits were rolling, being pushed to the sighed as an trailer popped up, a man in a long dark coat speaking very quickly. British. A voice was staying to stay tuned.

Cara hadn't seen him yet. If he wanted, he could go back to his room, continuing his work in solitude. He hesitated, as he began to turn away.

And if he was no longer in control of his body, he walk over, and stood behind her, finding his voice.

"What are you watching?" She jumped slightly, looking around at him in surprise. It was quickly eliminated from her features, however, and it quickly changed to a smile.

"A detective show," she said, moving over slightly, although there was already enough room on the couch for them both. "Wanna watch with me?"

He looked at it, putting as much space between them as he could, sitting like he was about to take flight at any moment. She smirked, turning her attention back to the television.

As the show progressed, he began to lean forward, as she clutched one of the pillows against her chest. The episode ended, and they both stared at the end credits, before looking at each other.

"It cannot end like that," Cara said. She began to laugh. Bucky thought it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard, although he hated himself for thinking that. "It cannot end like that! That was the season finale! They can't end it in a darkened swimming pool with a bomb, and pretend everything is okay."

He smiled slightly, shaking his head at her.

"How did they get out of that one?" She said, reaching for her phone. She had replaced the one from the wreck with a nearly identical one. "The next season was on a few years ago. I bet I can find it."

He noticed that she had shifted closer to him, unconsciously leaning towards him. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He looked at her again. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder, revealing the scar under her collarbone he had seen before, half hidden under the black collar of her shirt.

"How did you get that scar?" He asked, before he could stop himself. She looked at him sharply, fingers flying up to it. She smiled, thinly disguising the look of pain that came over her. He quickly tried to backpedal. "You don't have to tell me, sorry."

For a moment she seemed at a loss for words, opening her mouth, no sound coming out. She quickly recovered. "No, it's fine," she said, dropping her hand away from it. The smile she had put on became much easier to see through as she she spoke again. "I trusted someone... And I shouldn't have. Simple."

He nodded slowly, thinking carefully before speaking again. "Who were they?" There was an emotion he didn't He didn't like the idea of someone hurting Cara, of breaking her trust and scarring her, and if Cara gave him their name, he'd pay them a visit.

"It doesn't matter. Old coworker. It doesn't matter anymore."

He nodded again, feeling a little disappointed. She fell quiet, before she looked at his hand next to her.

"What about you?" She said. "How'd you get that?"

He froze.

What the hell could he say?

_Oh, Hydra gave me that, when I fell off a train and died seventy years ago. I use it to kill people. Don't worry. _

He settled for muttering, "Accident."

It was her turn to nod. Gently, she reached over, taking it both of hers. Her thumbs brushed over his palm. His fingers twitched. He could feel it, lightly, like an echo of a memory.

"Can you feel that?"

"Sort of. Yes. Barely."

"Amazing," she murmured. "It should be impossible. It's simulating the same electrical impulses as would normally be found in the original, connecting to the nerves in the back and chest. The muscles that would have had be replaced or damaged, and the weight of it, you'd need new knees... Not to mention the possibility of infection, or it getting rejected. The science it must have took to create this, Bucky. It's amazing." He watched her face tense up as she tried to figure him out. He didn't understand a lot of what she was saying, her words mainly for herself, like mental notes. There was a light there he hadn't seen before. He didn't want to let it go out.

"Do you like science, Cara?"

"I was never very good at it. But yes, I always found it interesting. If things had been different, maybe I would have been better at it."

She ran her fingers over the joints, landing on his wrist.

"What do you mean?"

"Get obsessed with one thing too long, everything else sort of steps aside. And when you lose that, you realize how much you've been missing."

"I can understand missing things."

"What do you miss, Bucky?"

He stared at their hands.

"I don't know. I'm trying to figure that out."

"I'm trying to figure you out. If I make any progress, I'll tell you."

He gave a short laugh, not seeing how her face lit up when he did.

"Good luck with that, Holmes," he said, nodding at the darkened screen.

"Why, thank you, my dear Watson."

She slid it into her own, entwining their fingers. His heart beat faster. Her flesh and bone one, slender and pale, and his, glinting in the dim light, used to kill, to murder, nothing more than a weapon. She looked up at him, the light catching her eyes, making them seem almost luminous. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. He pulled away from her, despite how empty it left him feeling.

"I'm going to bed, Fox," he said carefully, standing up.

"Okay."

Pausing in the doorway, though, not looking back, he said, "If anyone ever tries to hurt you like that again, you can tell me. I'll take care of it."

And he was gone.

* * *

Cara woke up suddenly, hearing Bucky screaming something in the night. She got up quickly, running into his room. He was curled in the corner of his bed, speaking a jumbled mix of Russian and English. He was awake, but not fully lucid, repeating his name, and random orders, and dates. He spoke too quickly for her to catch a lot of it, most of it being nonsense.

"Bucky," she said. She walked quickly to his side, sitting down next to him. "Bucky, I need you to breath for me."

"My name is James Buchanan Barnes."

"Yes, it is. What is my name?"

He was breathing heavily. "Cara Fox. Your name is Cara Fox."

"Yes. Good."

She shifted closer to him touching his shoulder lightly. He flinched violently.

"It was just a dream. That's all it was."

"I don't know where I am. Where am I? My head. My head hurts."

"You're here with me. Right here, it's okay."

He leaned into her touch after a moment, curling his body against hers. He felt so vulnerable next her, and she gently and repeatedly ran her fingers through his hair to try and slow his racing heart. He seemed more like a lost child now than a legendary soldier, clutching her like she was the last thing in the world.

"It was only a dream," she whispered. "You're safe. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

"My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes... 107th."

"I know, darling. I know. Go back to sleep, Bucky. I'm here."

"Cara."

"Yes, Bucky?"

He slipped his hand into hers. Not the metal one. The other one.

"Don't let me forget you."

Falling silent, he rested his head on her shoulder, in the crook of her neck. She kept her other arm around his shoulders.

"I'm here, Bucky."

Her voice cracked a little as she spoke. She hoped to God he couldn't hear her heart pounding. The proximity to him... It felt painful. She didn't like it. And as she sat there, she realized that she had almost fufilled step one.

He was trusting her.

And that made this all the more painful.

She was lying to him. If by some chance he ever found out, he would never, _ever_ forgive her, if he didn't kill her on the spot.

She knew she was protecting him... She knew that. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she was betraying her Soldier as well.

* * *

Bucky woke up, extremely confused, having no memory of the nightmare, luckily.

It was still dark, and he was aware of the heavy weight on his chest. He was sitting up, leaning against the wall, legs extended, his hand inside someone else's. His head rested on their shoulder, their knees bent, legs resting in his lap. He knew it was Cara. It had to be. Her red hair hung slightly in his face, her arm around his shoulder. He let go of her hand, untangling himself from her still sleeping form as gently as he could . Her head tilted onto his shoulder, and she breathed out quietly, as he shifted her down so she was lying down. As he got up, realized he was still holding onto her hand. Placing it on her stomach gently, he turned sharply, and practiaclly ran from the room.

What was he doing?

It wasn't like they had done anything, he didn't think, but she had slept in his bed, with him, holding him while he had suffered a breakdown. She had seen him at his weakest. That amount of intimacy terrified him. He didn't want to have to depend on her like that. If something happened, and he lost her, he knew he would never forgive himself.

He should have never gotten in her car. He should have left her there. He should have let her go. Maybe he wouldn't be forming this dangerous attachment Cara.

But he couldn't leave her. Not now.

It was too late for that.

He wondered what she had heard him say. From which nightmare he had been suffering when she found him. How the hell he convinced her to stay with him.

He looked back at her from his doorway. She had turned onto her side, facing him, hair falling into her face, looking like a picture of peace... She looked beautiful. Perfect.

As the moonlight hit her body, he fought the urge to go curl up next to her for the rest of the night. Fighting these thoughts away, he walked out to the living room, collapsing on the couch, running his hand over his face.

He had no idea how to get himself out of this one. And the worst part about that? Some little part of him was begging him not to even try.

He shut his eyes again. All he could see was Cara Fox's face.

Cara Fox. His mission. She was going to be his downfall, he was sure of it.

**A/N**: You all have homework procrastination to thank for this. It trumps writer's block apparently.

I think have a thing for angry dark haired men who fall and are presumed dead and have blonde counterparts, if that isn't obvious. Why not make Cara maybe have the same thing? I mean, what. I didn't say anything.

Sherlock is aired on PBS and BBC America here. I'm not sure if that's the same for everywhere. Do I have to say I don't own it? who knows

Make of their relationship what you will. I hope I'm not rushing anything, or making it go too slow. There's a lot of stuff I have to sort through, and it's making me a little uneasy, so your thoughts would be appreciated.


	13. Freakshow

_October 7th, 1995_

_The raid on the mad, evil scientist's base was going well, Phil Coulson thought, walking down the sterile white halls, other agents swarming picking up documents and information. The man they were here to collect, had been taken safely into custody, with little resistance, ranting to the people who agents who had arrested him about something called Project FIREBIRD, and "beloved". Most of it had been nonsense._

_All of the doors were opened, people going in and out, finding and taking anything that could be of use. The science department, would have a field day when they got their hands on this, if they managed to past the crazy talk. That's when his eye caught the unmarked door still closed._

_Walking briskly over, glanced at the handle, and hesitating before he opened it. They had swept for bombs and traps, and hadn't found anything. That didn't mean that he didn't have a bad feeling about this._

_But it was his job. So, without another moment's pause, he opened the door. And froze._

_After a few seconds, he managed to compose himself, and called out to the nearest person. "Garrett? Get Director Fury on the line now."_

_The other man looked at him, in the usual bullet-proof vest that the agents wore. His hand neared his gun. _

_"What is it?"_

_"I think I found Project FIREBIRD."_

_He looked back in. It was a bare room, the same sterile white as the rest of the base, a small bed in the corner. It had a single occupant, curled into the corner. A little girl, probably no older than six or seven, with fiery red hair, and a sickly, pale look. Her deep green eyes stared at him with a look of terror._

_"Hello, there," he said, slowly entering the room. The girl shrunk back farther. "No. No, you don't need to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you."_

_Kneeling in front of her, he tried to assess whether she was injured. He saw an IV port on her wrist, and one in the crook of her arm. She had a bruise on her cheek, and what looked like a catheter in her neck._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_She didn't answer._

_"Have you been here long?"_

_Still no answer._

_"What's your name?"_

_She paused. "Cara," she said, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke._

_"Hello, Cara. I'm Phil Coulson. We're going to take you somewhere else for a little while." He extended his hand to her. She didn't move. "I promise, we're not going to hurt you anymore. You're safe now."_

_She looked up at him. "Safe," she whispered._

_Slowly, she reached out, taking his hand. He smiled down at her, pulling her out into the hall where the other SHIELD personal glanced at them curiously. She stared back that them. _

_"Phil Coulson," she said quietly. He looked down at her. "What's happening?"_

_"The man who was in charge here was bad guy. And we got rid of him."_

_She didn't answer, but looked around slowly. As they left the small hidden doors of the base, stepping into the sunlight, Cara blinked furiously, flinching and stepping back into the shadows. _

_"Is it too bright?"_

_She looked around, squinting, and nodded. Taking the sunlight out of his pocket, he put them on her small face. It looked hilarious. _

_"Coulson," a voice said from behind him. He jumped, spinning around to see Melinda May smirking at him. "What did you find there?"_

_"May. This is Cara. I was just going to find her a seat on the jet." _

_She looked down at the small girl, who looked seriously up at her. "I got it. Director's on the phone with Garrett and he wants an explanation," she said, reaching over, and taking Cara's hand from his. "Come on, Cara. He still has work to do."_

_Coulson sighed, looking at them, and trying to think of exactly how to explain her to Fury. __Cara turned around while walking, staring at him, still wearing the ridiculously too big sunglasses. _

_"Welcome to SHIELD, Cara," Coulson said, before turning around to complete this mission._

* * *

_February 10th, 2008_

"_Amatus, Fletcher," Coulson said. "Meet the rest of your team. Mark Cassius, he'll be backing you up in case things get tough. Sophia Vela, your tech support, and hacker. Sybil White, science officer. Me, supervising officer." Cara glanced at Amatus, who shrugged as if to say, "seems decent enough"._

_"Wow, we're like the Leverage team up in here," Sybil said, not looking up from her phone. She looked like she was the youngest one there, barely eighteen, hair cut short, and dyed in streaks. "I just started watching that show. It's great. We should marathon it as a team sometime."_

"_I'd rather stab myself in the face," Cassius said. He was broad shouldered, muscular, with sharp, intelligent eyes, meeting everyone's gaze in the room in an nearly hostile way._

"_Oh, come on, Cassius," Vela said. She was beautiful, her long dark hair pulled back, dark brown eyes (that displayed that she was analyzing each of them without care), with elegant posture, drumming her fingers on the desk."It's honestly going to be the only invitation you're going to get, to go anywhere." _

_No one seemed happy to be here at all. Except for Amatus, who was grinning, like he had not a care in the world, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. She knew that this wasn't the case. He was a spy. He knew how to read subtle body language, and this was in no way subtle. No one wanted to be here._

"_Well, we already love each other, I'm so sure this is going to work out well," Cara said, giving Coulson a look that clearly stated, in the kindest way possible, 'when this burns, you're burning with it'._

"_Optimism, Fletcher," Amatus said. "Optimism."_

_Cara shot him the same look she gave Coulson, without the presumption of pleasantries. He grinned at her._

"_Well then, Shadows," Coulson said, smiling painfully. "You all have your assignments. Get acquainted. Review the file. You're shipping out in an hour." He turned leaving the room. _

"_Yay," Sybil said absently, her gaze never leaving her screen, until after Coulson had left the room. "Wait, did he just call us 'shadows'? What's a shadow?"_

"_It's the when something blocks the light, and makes it dark," Vela said. "I thought you were the science officer on here, White. Aren't you supposed to know this stuff?"_

"_Shut up. I'm probably smarter than all of you combined-"_

"_And you're also like twelve," Cassius said. "Let the grownups work, kid, and go back to school."_

"_That's it, you moronic toadstool, I will mess you up-" She stood up, slamming her hands on the table. _

"_Everyone, just calm down, and review our jobs," Amatus said, sitting that the table, opening the folder in front of him. "Okay. Me and Fletcher here are going to be playing happily engaged couple, Richard Cavan and Lilia Jackson, wealthy entrepreneurs who happen to be staying in the same hotel as our target. It's a in and out operation. Honestly, I don't see why we need a whole team for this."_

"_We're being punished," Cara said sharply. Everyone looked at her. "Look. They think we can't handle ourselves, but are too valuable to lose, and they put this freakshow together to try and compensate for that. I know about how all your previous mission went wrong. I know what you lost. I know about your flaws, and secrets, and mistakes. This... This is a team that is doomed to fail. That's what everyone wants. That's what everyone believes."_

_She sat down across beside Amatus, taking the file from his hand, looking up at them all. They met her gaze. There was a fiery determination in her eyes that hadn't been there before, trumping the guilt that had been haunting her features since her last mission._

"_Let's prove them all wrong."_

* * *

Cara woke up in his bed. She felt herself reach for him instinctively, to try and figure out his position. When she didn't find him, she opened her eyes, sitting up. He wasn't anywhere in here. Slowly, she rose. Walking outside the room, and found him on the couch. His back was to her, his head in his hands. She could see where his skin melded into the metal of his arm.

"Bucky?" she called, to grab his attention. He jumped, turning around. Knowing that now she wouldn't surprise him, she walked around, and sat beside him. He stared at her, his dark blue eyes searching out hers before falling away, like he was ashamed of something. "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer.

Crossing her legs, turning so that she faced him, she watched him. He looked less vulnerable the he had before. But still not completely the Bucky she knew. She reached forward, gently pushing his hair back. He shut his eyes at her touch, but didn't move from it.

"Did I wake you up?" He murmured, his voice hoarse.

She paused. "No."

"I did, didn't I?" He pulled his arms tightly around his middle. "Stupid dreams. Sorry."

"It's alright. They aren't real."

"They were though. At one point. And that's what hurts."

Cara stared at him. He looked broken. Broken. Beaten. Tired. Done. She had seen it before, and she hadn't known how to fix it. Making a split second, she made the same choice she had before, and found herself pushing into his arms, her eyes closing as she held onto him. To take his mind off it. She needed to do at least that. He was stiff with surprise at first, his hands falling to her waist instinctively.

"I swear, I won't let them hurt you anymore. I'll protect you." It was probably risky to say something like that. To put her purpose out there. But in this moment, she didn't care. Something in her wanted to say anything she could to make him feel even a little better.

And it must have worked, because he began to laugh. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and she felt his chest shake with amusement. Leaning back, he looked at her. His eyes were still dark, but he was laughing.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That wasn't nothing. You were laughing."

"Not at you."

"What? Do you not think I could protect you?"

"I don't know."

"Thanks."

"You just said something that reminds me of something I thought once."

"What's that?"

"Nothing important."

She sighed, sliding her hands onto his shoulders. His hair brushed over her hand.

"You know what is important though?" She said. She twisted a strand of it between her fingers. "This is getting long. Do you like it?"

"I never thought about it."

"I like it. But I can cut it for you, if you want."

She immediately regretted it. He looked panicked for a moment. She could only imagine, him thinking about her standing behind him with a sharp object. He knew every way that she could kill him. She in no way expected him to agree.

"Okay."

She blinked in surprise. "Okay?"

"Okay. I trust you."

She didn't know whether she felt like laughing, crying, or simply smiling. She settled on the last.

Phase 2. Done.

Phase 3 was mainly just keep him from dying or getting captured for as long as possible. And never let him know who she was.

But somewhere, in the back of her mind, she wondered if this mission, her mission, her life away from SHIELD, was compromising her. Because when she had looked at him, she had wanted to save him. And the line between wanting to save someone, and genuinely caring for them was a thin one she really didn't want to walk again. Because no matter what, if you care for someone, you will lose them. It was Cara's law. And it had never been broken.

Ever.

* * *

_[Classified Date], 2012_

_When Steve Rogers had been recovered from the ice, Cara had been excited. She had cared as much as any good little SHIELD agent would, of course, but this was the hero of SHIELD had. He had practically lay the foundations for the organization that she had been with forever. She had grown up on stories about him, and had admittedly read several comics. So, against all orders (only a few people were allowed to see him), and with the help of the rest of the Freakshow, she snuck into his hospital room. Just to say "thank you"._

_He had been looking out the window when she entered, and she let her footsteps fall louder than usual to alert him to her presence. He turned around, looking sharply at her in surprise._

_"Steve Rogers?" She said carefully. He was staring at her, expression guarded._

_"Yes?"_

_"I... I don't really know why I came in. I just... Wanted to say thank you, I think."_

_"You think?"_

_"To be honest, I hadn't thought this far ahead," she admitted. "I thought they would have caught me by know. Not technically supposed to be here. But I really did want to thank you for everything you did."_

_He shook his head, smiling slightly. "Look, I don't want to get you in trouble-"_

_"It's not the worst thing I've done, and I haven't been fired yet." She walked over, standing next to him. "What are you looking at?"_

"_I don't know, just... taking in the sights," he said with a sigh. She gave him a sympathethic look. _

_"Well, if you ever find yourself wanting to see more than just outside the window, come find us."_

_"Yeah, and who are 'us'?"_

_"Technically, we're called Shadows. All these screwups and misfits that have a second chance... We prefer to think of ourselves as the Freakshow. We could probably get you out of here, and into the world for a few hours without Fury even noticing."_

_"I'll take that into consideration," he said, looking down at her. "But for now... I think I'll have to pass."_

_"Okay-" Her phone went off suddenly, the Jaws theme playing. She jumped, grabbing it quickly. It was her cue to leave, as carefully explained by Sybil. _

_"Well, looks like Fury's on his way. I'd best be off," she said, nearly running to the door, looking back at him. "If you ever change your mind, find us."_

* * *

Bucky sat stiffly at the kitchen table, in front of a mirror Cara had brought out from her room. She stood behind him, gently running her fingers through his hair, and cutting off the ends. She was silent as she worked.

He kept a careful watch on the scissors, making sure she didn't try to stab him in the jugular or something. Not that he had been lying when he said he trusted her (he might have been. He wasn't sure anymore.) But old habits die hard.

Her cool fingers brushed over his neck, and he resisted the shudder that ran through his body. She wasn't fooled, and paused.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

She had cut off about an inch, still leaving it pretty long, as she finished. She pulled his hair back, leaning down, and looking over his shoulder.

"Does this look good?"

"I guess."

"That wasn't a strong, definitive yes."

"I just don't care how it looks."

She sighed slowly, before smiling mischievously. "So, I could just cut it all off, and you wouldn't care?" She opened and closed the scissors quickly in front of him, grinning at the snipping noise it made.

"No, don't do that."

"You said you didn't care."

He tried to snatch them from her, but she pulled back sharply, laughing, as she backed away from him. "Cara!"

He got up, facing her, and trying to look disapproving. He obviously failed, as she simply laughed harder, and disappeared into the living room. He followed her, catching up to her quickly, catching the hand that held the scissors. Unfortunately, she had also misstepped at the exact same time, meaning the surprise of both the action, made her trip. He tried to catch her, but somehow, she managed to swipe his feet out from under him, making him fall on top of her, not without a few choice words.

He managed to catch most of his impact on his metal arm, avoiding completely crushing her. His other hand was still wrapped around hers, pinning it to the ground (that probably was the reason neither of them had been stabbed). He looked down at her, their faces centimeters apart, their legs tangled together. And that was when he realized that they were now in an extremely compromising position.

Her chest was still heaving from the fall, one hand holding onto his arm. She was still laughing, eyes shut, her head tilted back, hair fanning out beneath them. He found himself thinking back to that first day with her, when she sat next to him, soaking wet, wrapped in his jacket, and bleeding, and he had thought that she was attractive, but had refused to even think about. Until now, when he was realizing that it wasn't just attraction, that she was truly very beautiful.

He could see the tiny scars on her neck, from that man's nails as he threatened to tear her throat out, and the scar from earlier, before he met her. He could see her lashes in the dim light, and soft glow of her skin, and dark red of her hair, and she was beautiful, and he didn't know how to stop himself from thinking it.

Her laughter died down slightly, as she opened her eyes, the dim light making the green look darker than usual, meeting his own. Her smile didn't fade completely, but her expression changed as she looked up at him, and he wasn't sure what it meant.

His voice felt stuck in his throat, and he decided to act quickly. Snatching the scissors out of her hand, he scrambled up and away from her. She sat up slowly. Bucky tried not to stare at her.

"You win," she said. "I won't cut off all your hair."

He flipped the scissors in his hand, sliding them into his pocket and giving her a triumphant smirk as he left the room, pausing only to toss back a brief "Thank you."

It felt like a weight had been temporarily lifted in his chest.

Now began the countdown before it came crashing down again.

**A/N: **Pretty Cara-centric chapter here, delving more into her past. Hope that doesn't bother anyone, but we do see Bucky actually feeling almost happy for once, and that makes me happy.

Freakshow not inspired by AHS, cause I'm still not caught up, or the DC villian group of the same titles. I was just messing around with names, and that one simply clicked. Who know? Maybe there's another spinoff in the works. (I'd actually really like to write that. My little Freakshow is comprised of very... interesting characters, with very interesting missions.)


	14. Pt1: For Reasons Wretched And Divine

Part One of _"For Reasons Wretched and Divine, She's Gonna Save Me, And Lord, She Found Me Just In Time"_

The chapter title inspired by Hozier's song Jackie And Wilson.

Bucky sat up quickly, breathing heavily with one thought running through his mind.

_Where am I?_

He did a quick check, trying to make sure that he wasn't immediate danger. After he was sure of that, he did a quick check to look at his surroundings. He was in a dark room, legs tangled in bedsheets. Before he had woken up, he had been in a smaller one, more like a table, and he hadn't been able to move his arms, or move anything really.

Hadn't been able to do anything except scream._ My name is Bucky,_ he had been thinking. _My name is James Buchanan Barnes, and I will not forget again. They won't make me. They cannot make me._

The scene in his mind had switched, and small child, a girl, he wasn't sure how old, had been looking up at him with expressionless eyes, as words floated around him giving him orders to deliver her safely to a specified spot, that they were being paid well for this, and that if he should fail, there would be consequences. Her wrist was hand roughly to him, and he took it, and she still didn't react...

The scene then changed again, and he was staring through the scope of a rifle, looking at a car as it came speeding passed, aiming at the tires. He knew the targets names. Howard and Maria Stark. They had a child, but he didn't care about that. He didn't care. He pulled the trigger. The screeching of wheels, and the sound of crashing, grating metal, as he rose from his perch to finish the job, made him wake up.

He stumbled out of the bed, reaching for the notebook that he had felt there at the beginning of the night, knowing this would happen.

He began to scribble his name on the paper, along with whatever details he could remember.

_1\. My name is Bucky Barnes. Unknown room, can't move arms, pain, lots of pain, most likely memory, no one else hurt, no date._

_2\. Had to protect a child. Name unknown. Succeeded. No date._

_3\. The Starks. Two dead. Succeede-_

He shut his eyes, unable to finish. He had killed them, and their little boy was going to have to grow up without them. The worst part? He had known Howard. Before, in the war. The man had risked his life flying out Steve to save his sorry ass, and if he hadn't, he'd have been able to see his son grow up. Bucky only knew this based off what he read, and he knew this was a good thing, having no other memories of the man. He didn't think that he could bear the guilt of killing another friend.

He breathing became shallower.

Carefully, he ran though the things he knew. He was in Cara's home. He was out of his nightmare. He was okay. Taking another deep breath, he let his eyes drift to where the gun lay next to his pillow. It was there. Just in case it was not just a dream.

He sighed, standing up, and picked up the gun, holding it for a moment before putting it away in the drawer, knowing he was not going to able to fall back asleep tonight. Walking silently through the hall, he paused in the hall, in front of Cara's door. It was open a crack, still dark. She was still asleep. He was glad he hadn't woken her up again. She had her own problems to deal with. She didn't need to be burdened with taking care of him too.

He leaned against the wall for a moment. A small part of him wondered if she would still be this kind to him if she knew what he'd done. If she knew about the Starks, and the countless other faceless victims. If she knew about who he had worked for. What he had done.

He wouldn't. He'd hate himself. He'd wouldn't forgive himself for the lying, or the past crimes. He hadn't forgiven himself.

He wondered if he would forgive someone else, if they were in his shoes, and shook his slightly. Anyone who worked for SHIELD, HYDRA. They were all the same to him. They were all his enemies. Killers, and liars, and he hated them all. He wasn't sure if that was because he was afraid of them, or if he didn't trust them, or both, but he knew that this hatred was the only thing keeping him almost sane.

"You're still having nightmares, aren't you?" He jumped, spinning around. Cara stared at him from her door. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me."

"You know, talking about them really does help," she said, ignoring him, and walking closer. For a moment, he was tempted... He was tempted to tell her everything, from the childhood he couldn't remember, to the fall, to all the lives he took, to the man he was now, whoever that was.

And then he remembered. He didn't want to scare her off. He didn't want her to run away from him, where he couldn't protect her...

He didn't want to lose her.

So, he swallowed his words, and turned away from her, as her hand touched his back. He felt the heat from her fingers burning through his shirt, on his spine, like flames flickering from branch to branch in a wildfire, consuming everything in it's path. He shuddered, as for some reason, some other words came back to him.

_"Do you know the story of the Firebird?"_

He turned slightly to look down at her, her green eyes peering up, face was etched with concern. She wasn't simply curious about his past, and the dreams. It was like she honestly cared about him, and wanted him to feel better. Wanted him to be okay.

_"The Wolf, being a creature of winter, did not like the warmth."_

He wasn't sure just how he felt about her caring about him. He sure as hell didn't deserve it, and it was a dangerous line to walk that might lead to him caring about her back. If it wasn't too late.

_"Her hair is quite the shade of red. Like flames, don't you think?"_

She was like fire. Warmth and protection and beauty. He was like ice. Cold and bitter and destructive, and there was no way for them ever to work out together, without mutually assured destruction.

"We should go running," she said suddenly, breaking his train of thought. She seemed to do this whenever she she wanted to distract him from something bad, say something quickly to take his mind off his thoughts. He appreciated the effort. "You told me I could go running with you."

"I said if you can keep up," he said. He leaned against the wall, looking down at her, feeling something that felt almost like a smile play at his lips. "Can you?"

"Careful, Barnes," she said, raising an eyebrow. "That's almost flirting."

You used to be good at that, you know, said a small voice in the back of his mind. Now say something smart. Unfortunately, he was out of practice in this particular field, and turned away quickly, looking at the ground, and not saying anything at all.

"Meet me out here in five minutes," he said quickly, trying to ignore how his face suddenly felt hot, and her small smirk, as she clearly noting his reaction, filing it away for later. He turned quickly away. "And only if you can keep up."

"You're not keeping up," Bucky said, from behind her, as he passed her for what felt like the hundredth time. They had only been running for about twenty minutes, and she already felt exhausted. She glared at him, after jumping slightly. He made no noise whenever he approached, always completely silent. She could understand why that was, assassins having to be quiet and all, but it still annoyed her.

"Stop... Doing... That..." She hissed, He smirked at her, turning so he was running backwards, looking like he could probably do this for hours. Now that just wasn't fair. This was obviously payback for her flirting comment this morning.

"Do you need a break?" he said.

"No," she snapped.

"You look tired."

"I'm just tired... of your com... comments," she gasped, as she slowed down, leaning against the trunk of the nearest tree, bracing her hands on her knees. They had made it to Central Park in what felt record time, while she wasn't out of shape, quite the opposite in fact, she was no super soldier. He leaned next to her, with that same stupid smirk on his stupid face.

"Ready to go back?"

"I thought you... wanted to run," she said finally managing to catch her breath again.

"What you were doing was not running," he said. "That was what fish do when you take them out of water."

"You're snarky today," she said, sinking slowly to the ground. He sat next to her, eyes darting around as he kept an eye on all the people passing. "Are you in a good mood or something?"

He shrugged. "Usually, I'm alone...But I'm not. Right now."

"Is this your way of saying that you like having me around?"

"I like you better than being alone."

"That's something, I guess."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling him tense. She ignored that.

"Have you lived here before?"

"What?" He said distractedly, glancing at her for a moment, before his eyes drifted back to a group of kids passing, assessing whether they were a threat.

"Have you live here? In New York?"

He paused. "Brooklyn. Before I joined the army."

She feigned ignorance. "You're in the army?"

"Was."

"Oh," she said. She expected them the conversation to stop there, but after a moment of silence, he spoke up again suddenly.

"I remember this time that there was a duststorm... Here in New York, when I was seventeen," he said, speaking slowly, staring off into space, with a distant expression on his face. "My friend... He had always had trouble breathing before, but this was enough to make everyone sick. Pneumonia or somethin'. His mom, she was still alive, didn't let him out of the house, but it didn't help, he just kept getting sicker and sicker. I stayed with him, tried to keep him company, but I though he was gonna die. He... Didn't. He didn't, but it's a miracle. His mom... She wasn't as lucky. She never really got over it."

He broke off suddenly, looking down to where she was leaning on his shoulder, listening to everything he was saying, with bright eyes, completely silent, letting him process the memory.

"Is... Is he alright now? You're friend?"

Bucky shrugged. "I don't know."

"Why not?"

"Don't ask that. Please."

"Okay."

They both fell silent, as the park slowly began to get more and more crowded. As she rested her head on his shoulder she could feel him tense with every new person that passed. She remembered why she had taken him in. Protect him. Use him as a mission. Use him to feel like she still had a purpose. Reasons wretched and divine. Carefully, she stood up, and he looked up at her.

"Let's get back," she said. "I want to go out to lunch later, and you said I look like a dying fish."

"No. I didn't. I said you ran like one."

She extended her hand, and he slowly took it, letting her pull him to his feet.

"Like that's any better."

"Cara," he said, his expression serious and honest. "You don't look like a dying fish." She resisted the urge to laugh, or hug him. She instead, against all common sense, kept her hand in his for a moment longer than necessary. His skin was rough and calloused from years of hand to hand combat and distant assassinations, but warm, keeping hers in a strong grip that made her feel like he had her back. That she could trust him.

She let it go quickly, trying to banish all those thoughts out of her head. All this trusting and wanting to protect him, and she might lose sight of her objective.

He was just a mission.

Just a mission.

Just a mission.

Funny how the more you repeat words, the more they lose their impact.

**A/N: **This probably not the best editing-wise, but is kinda a rushed update. This was going to be one really, really long chapter, but I gave up, and split it into three parts. They'll be up... Eventually. Bear with me, I'm trying something new.

Thank you so much for reading, and for your reviews last time. You guys are amazing.


	15. Pt2: She's Gonna Save Me

Part 2 of _"For Reasons Wretched and Divine, She's Gonna Save Me, And Lord, She Found Me Just In Time"_

_Warnings for this chapter include some language._

_Song for this chapter, and probably the entire piece is Believe by Mumford and Sons. More on that at the end. _

Bucky was waiting for her outside her door when she walked out of her room, making her jump slightly as she very nearly ran into him.

She had told him when they got back, that they would be going out to lunch as soon as she got ready, and it was clear he took it almost literally.

"Ready?"

He nodded, turning away. She glanced at the outfit he wore. The green jacket she had bought for him, glove on his left hand, so that no metal showed. His baseball cap was crumpled in his hand.

"Where are we going?" He said, not looking back at her as he walked.

"No idea," she said. "I just planned to walked around until we saw something we like."

"We," he said quietly.

"Yeah... Do you not want to be a 'we'?"

"No, it's just... Been awhile since anyone has ever given me that choice. Bit different from orders from superiors."

She blinked. That was about as he had ever come to admitting his past to her. Before she could react, he turned back to her.

"Well? Are you coming?"

She gave a wordless nod, and sped up, so that she was beside him as they walked through the front door. As much as she tried to ignore it, it felt good walking beside him. She felt like she had a partner again, as irrational as that was. Her and Bucky weren't partners, not in the way that she was used to. To be a partner, you had to know all the little secrets, had to be an equal, with mutual trust. what she had with Bucky was something much more twisted.

The sun was shining when they walked out, the late spring air warm, the wind rustling slightly, picking up pieces trash and paper left behind, along with noise that seemed to be everywhere. Bucky pulled the cap down onto his head, not making eye contact with anyone that passed them, both of them simply becoming a couple of faces in a crowd of others going out to find cabs, or lunch, meeting up with old friends in the streets. A bus with Stark's face on it passed them, advertising something or another. Bucky refused to look at it.

After a few minutes, she stopped, nudging him slightly, and pointing to a small restaurant, with tables outside. He shrugged in his usual noncommittal way, and they made their way over to it.

They managed to get an outdoor table, separated from the sidewalk by a rope, a large red umbrella hanging over them. Their waitress, introducing herself as Maia, was a young woman who couldn't be older than eighteen, smiling politely, but seeming a little overwhelmed with the midday rush (in particular a rowdy group a few tables away from them who kept calling her back, clearly enjoying tormenting the poor thing). Cara had glanced at the menu, ordering the most basic item quickly, trying to add less stress to her job. Bucky, seeing what she was doing, immediately said the same thing, giving the poor girl a little encouraging smile. It made Cara's heart beat slightly faster. He was getting better. Not glaring at strangers, smiling at strangers, speaking civilly to strangers. He was getting better.

"That was nice," he said, after a few moments. "Making her life easier."

"You did it too."

"I don't know if I would've if you weren't here."

"Sure you would."

"Well, I wouldn't be here at all. I'd probably be hitchhiking or something still."

"That was weeks ago, Barnes."

"Exactly."

She rolled her eyes. "The longer I know you, the more dramatic you get."

He looked down, picking at the edge of the tablecloth, but she could see that he wasn't frowning at it.

The girl came with their food, a sandwich and salad for each of them. Just as she set it down, the loudest man at the other table, a broad shouldered, blonde man, looking like he was barely out of college, began to laugh, before calling out-

"Hey, stupid! You messed up my order. Come back here, and fix it!"

The rest of the group laughed with him.

She flinched, seeming to wither slightly, walking over dejectedly. Bucky's face hardened, hand clenching into a fist.

"Bucky," Cara warned quietly.

"They're treating her like shit! She's just a kid!"

Cara picked at her salad, glaring into it. She hated them for how they were treating the girl, but if Bucky confronted them, he'd risk revealing his identity. And what could happen to him was much, much worse. If she confronted them, then Bucky would step in, and both their covers might be blown...

He would find out who she was. The thought terrified her.

"I know, but what do you want to do? Go over and fight them all, right here?"

"If they leave her alone, then yeah."

"We can be subtle about it," she said. The girl passed again, and Cara caught her arm.

"Listen, I'm sorry to have to bother you," she said apologetically. "But do you think you can grab the manager for me? I'm really, really sorry to have to have to do this to you."

"Of course," the girl said weakly, scurrying off. The group laughed again, Bucky took a deep breath, before standing up, knocking his chair back.

"I'm going to go see if I can pay early," he said, clearly just needing to get away for a moment.

"You don't have to-"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "You've done enough for me. I'm paying for this."

He stalked off, just as the manager walked over. "Hello, ma'am. You asked to see me?"

"Yes, it's just that table over there is harassing your employee, and disturbing us all. Is there anything you can do?"

"I'll go talk to them."

She nodded gratefully, letting her eyes drift to Bucky, who had manage to pay, and was getting distracted by the television on the wall, where the history of SHIELD was being talked about. Howard Stark face flashed on screen, and she swore she saw him stiffen. She watched him for a few seconds, before she shook her head quickly, realizing she had been staring.

"Excuse me," a voice said from next to her. "You work at the bookstore, don't you?" She looked up to see the man who had talked to her at the bookstore a few days ago, very openly flirting with her. He was probably late twenties, early thirties, with light brown hair, and eyes so brown they looked black. He about as tall as Bucky, and about the same build as well. She nodded slowly, smiling pleasantly.

"I never caught your name," he said. "I'm Lewis."

"Cara," she said. He flashed her a smile.

"Nice to finally meet you Cara," he paused. "Can I just say, you are very pretty?"

She turned her eyes away, smiling with polite embarrassment. "Thank you, Lewis," she said, looking back up him.

"Listen, I've been trying to get up the courage to ask you this, and then I saw you here, and I... It's okay if you say no, but I just wanted to try... If you wanted to go out sometime, I'd love to get to know you better," he said, blushing slightly, handing her a piece of paper. She paused, looking at the number he had scrawled on it.

"I'll think about," she said, the words sticking in the back of her throat, feeling insanely guilty for some reason. He grinned, and ran off, pausing only to wave as he disappeared into the crowds. She watched him, before glancing at the number in her hand, written in red ink, scrawled quickly onto a piece of scratch paper.

"You know what, that's fucking bullshit!"

Cara looked up at the source of the noise, the stupid leader of the stupid table, who was glaring up at the manager. She glanced at Bucky, who made eye contact with her, and imediatly began to make his way over, carefully picking through the bustling tables, trying not to touch anyone.

It turned out to be in vain however, as the yelling man stood up suddenly, knocking into him. Bucky stepped back sharply, and she watched his hand fly to his side, where she knew he kept a knife. She rose quickly as well, seeing that this could end very badly.

"What were you're fucking going!" the man snapped, turning away from the manager to face him. Bucky simply stared at him, his face slowly emptying of any emotion, although flickering under the surface was a deadly rage. Yup. This could end very, very badly. She began making her way over. "What? Not going to fucking apologize?"

"You ran into me," Bucky said, his jaw clenched. "I am not going to apologize for that."

The man pushed his shoulder slightly. "Yeah, you are."

Cara watched Bucky tense slightly, fingers twitching, as she finally reached him, slipping her arms into the crook of his elbow, eyes flicking between him and the other man.

"Hey. I was looking for you. Are you ready to go?" He looked down at her, gaze softening slightly, the murderous expression fading ever so slightly.

"Yes," he said. She lead him away, not looking back as the man yelled at them both.

"Oh, yeah. Run. Run away, hide behind a fucking whore."

Bucky stopped, turning around, and taking a few steps forward before Cara managed to stop him.

"Say that again," he said, raising his voice slightly. "Say that one more time."

"Bucky," she whispered, stepping in front of him, placing her hands on his chest. His heart was beating very fast beneath her fingers. He wrapped his hands loosely around the wrists, careful not to hurt her, lightly trying to push her behind him. She didn't move

"I won't let him call you that, Cara," he said.

"Look, we're never going to see him again. We're never going to see him again. Let's please just go. Before things get out of control."

The man began to laugh, clearly enjoying the response his words were having on them, as he tried to stupidly goad Bucky into a fight. "She's a little slut, and you're a goddamned coward-"

Cara spun around, managing to punch him square in the face, knocking him to the ground. The crowd that she hadn't notice staring at them them gave a collective gasp. She turned quickly back to Bucky, who was looking at her in awe, like he was going to kiss her or start laughing or both. She pushed him slightly towards the door, slipping her hand into his.

"We really need to go now," she whispered. He nodded, snapping out of whatever daze he was in, as they both practically ran to the door, hand in hand. They didn't slow when they were outside, and in fact, Bucky ran faster, pulling her behind him. When she caught sight of his face, she found that he was grinning. Not a pained, half smile, or a quiet smirk, but a full out grin. It made him look years younger. It made her smile too. After a few blocks, he stopped suddenly, catching her as she almost crashed into him. Just like when they first met, hand on her shoulders. They fell to her waist, as he lifted her up, spinning her around.

"Did you see his face?" He said. "The bastard never saw it coming."

Cara smiled at him, shaking out her fist. "You don't have to look so happy about the fact I hurt my hand on his face."

His expression almost immediately became serious again, although the light in his eyes didn't dull. He gently inspected the bruises forming on her knuckles.

"That was a good punch," he commented.

"Not my best."

"I'd hate to be on the receiving end of that one."

"Yeah. You would," she said, gently hitting him on the shoulder with a closed fist. He paused a moment before speaking again.

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" She knew very well what he was talking about.

"Hit him... Only after he said something about me?"

"He called you a coward," she said. "I don't want anyone ever thinking that about you."

If he knew who your were, who you are, how you died, what you've done, what you've been through, she thought. He would never have said it.

"But he was calling you names too."

She shrugged. "I've been called worse. It was nothing I couldn't handle."

He shook his head. "Cara Fox," he murmured, looking like he wanted to add something else.

"Yes?"

"I... Nothing. Just... You're something else, you know that?"

He began to walk away, pulling her behind him, his hand holding hers gently, not trying to keep her there. If she wanted to pull away, she could.

She didn't. She didn't know why, but she still held onto him. He was getting better, and she... She was getting worse. Falling farther and farther into whatever she was feeling for him, and she was terrified she would never be able to find her way out again.

She still held onto him.

She was falling, and she still held onto him.

**A/N: **If you know me, you know how excited I got when I heard the new Mumford and Sons song, and you're probably going to tell me to shut up already, but it reminds me so much of Bucky/Cara, I'm adding here, even though this chapter is named for another song. That feels like I'm cheating on Hozier with Mumford and Sons, which probably means I'd have some pretty tragic songs written about me that be cool wouldn't it and now I'm just rambling, kudos to you if you managed to get through this.

And in this chapter, I've set up multiple plot thread's we'll be seeing again, that's why it seems a bit rushed/crowded.

(PS, Happy day late Birthday, Bucky, you beautiful little life ruiner, you. I really did try to get this ready yesterday, but stuff happened)


	16. Pt3: And Lord, She Found Me Just In Time

"Bucky," Cara said suddenly, as they approached the doors of the apartment.

He looked down at her. "Yeah?"

"There's something I need to do something. I'll meet you upstairs."

She let go of his hand, pushing past gently him.

"You okay?" He said, stepping forward to grab her shoulder, before letting his hand drop back to his side quickly. She glanced back, smiling brightly, although something flickered in her eyes.

"Perfectly fine. I'll meet you up there in a second," she said. He nodded slowly, watching her walk off. Something had changed in her walk. It seemed almost more natural than her usual gait, more determined, light and lithe. More dangerous.

As she disappeared, he slipped away himself, not quite able to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.

* * *

One hour, thirty six minutes was how long it took before he started to really worry. For one hour, thirty six minutes, he had sat in his room, stood by the door, lay on the couch, leaned against the counter, and had practically paced a hole in the floor in the hall. His head was beginning to hurt slightly, and there was still no sign of her. After one hour and thirty six minutes, he began to question if being with Cara was starting to do something to his sanity.

He tried telling himself that when she walked back in, she'd make fun of him for worrying so much, that she could take care of herself, and he'd tell her that he knew that, that that's what he thought too, but bad things can happen to anyone.

At one hour, fifty one minutes, he began to panic, calling her twice. She didn't answer, it going straight to her cheery voice mail asking to leave a message.

At two hours, nine minutes, he went out looking for her. Walking in the direction she had, he occasionally asked around, and no one had seen her. It was like she had disappeared off the face of the planet. And the fact that he couldn't find her was not a good sign.

When it started to get dark, (seven hours, forty two minutes since he had last seen her), he decided to check the apartment. Maybe he had missed her. And his search of the city brought up nothing. It was like she was a ghost.

As he opened the door, he cautiously called out. "Cara?"

No answer. Again. His stomach dropped. Running his hand through his hair, he began to look in every room, making sure no one was waiting for him. As he pushed open the door to her room, scanning it for anything unusual, his eyes landed on vase of small blue flowers next to the bed. he had a feeling he knew what they were at one point.

Nothing else was out of place. She wasn't here. No one was.

He leaned against the wall, sinking slowly to the ground. If she wasn't home by midnight, he'd go back out. He wasn't losing her. He wasn't going to let anyone take her away from him. He couldn't lose her. Too much had been taken from him already.

None of this was helping his head, which was growing worse and worse by the minute. Light danced at the bottom of his line of vision. He wasn't sure what was causing it. He had never gotten sick, when he was with HYDRA, at least not that he could remember. He didn't think he had been sick since he'd gotten the bastardized version of the serum.

Must be the stress.

He heard the sound of the door flew open suddenly, and he scrambled to his feet, going silently towards the noise.

"Cara?"

He rounded the corner, and saw her struggling with the keys in the door, yanking them out and throwing them onto the table beside her, kicking the door shut with her foot. She didn't look at him as she tried to pass him, limping slightly, head down. "Cara!"

She stopped as he grabbed her arms, spinning her so she faced him. She looked up at him slowly. One eye was black, her lip split, and there suspiciously finger shaped bruises on her throat.. His heart began to race. She was hurt. Someone had hurt her. He knew those bruises. They came from fists. She was hurt, and someone had done it to her on purpose. His heard the metal in his arm creek slightly as he tensed.

"What happened?" He said quietly, running his thumb lightly over her cheek.

"I got jumped, and I fought back," she said. He released a small breath.

"Where?"

"A few blocks away..."

He stepped back, grabbing his jacket, and beginning to shrug it on. She caught his wrist.

"Bucky, it's too late. They're gone."

"I'll find them," he snapped, not caring that he was directed his rage at her. Someone was going to pay for this. He spun around yanking out of her grasp violently.

"Bucky, please! Stop!"

He paused, glancing back at her. She looked exhausted, arms crossed around her middle, swaying slightly on her feet. The rage in his chest died down.

"How bad are you hurt?" His voice sounded cold and robotic to his own ears.

"I don't know."

"That's not a good enough answer. How bad are you hurt?"

"Not bad."

"You're gone for hours, and you say 'not bad'?"

"You should see them," she said, giving him a weak, grim smile. He stared at her a second, putting down his jacket, exhaling slowly as he moved out of the hallway, towards the kitchen, grabbing her hand as he passed, pulling her with him.

"Sit there," he said, nodding at the counter. She did so, quietly watching him grab a dishcloth, and pulling ice from the freezer, wrapping it carefully.

She was still silent as he stepped in front of her, holding the makeshift ice pack to the bruise under her eye. She flinched slightly at the sudden cold, hand flying up to land on the back of his. A sudden feeling of horrible guilt rose in him. She was hurting because he had failed his mission. Wasn't the entire reason he was staying with her to make sure that she was safe?

"I should have been there," he murmured, almost to himself .

"It's not your job to protect me," she said, shutting her eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to try. I should have been with you. I'm sorry." Her hand tightened around his fingers.

"Don't do that to yourself. I told you to go up without me."

He hummed a dull response, falling silent. She reached over, eyes still shut holding onto his shoulder.

"I was worried," he said suddenly, surprising himself. "You were gone for hours, and I should have gone looking for you sooner."

"No. You would have gotten involved. You might've gotten hurt."

"What if it had been worse?" His voice began to rise. "What if you hadn't fought back, or there were too many, or they were HYD- They were more dangerous? Cara, I could have lost you!"

He put the ice down, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of her, looking at the floor.

"After everything else, I don't think I could stand losing you too."

The cold touch of her hand on his cheek made him look up, meeting her gaze. "You're not losing me. I'm not going anywhere."

She was so close to him, faces centimeters apart. He hesitated a moment, leaning forward, closing the distance between them, lips just about to touch as he put his hand on her waist. She winced slightly, enough to make him lean sharply back, as she lifted up the hem of her shirt, where another bruise was forming just below her ribs. He gave another small sigh, as she let it fall back down.

"What the hell am I going to do with you?" He said, stepping back, and shaking his head.

"Oh, I'm sure you can think of something," she quipped darkly, hopping off the counter, still clutching the ice. She wasn't wrong. He could think of several things, but none of them seemed quite appropriate for what was happening. He settle for shaking his head, and looking away from her.

"Go to bed, Fox. You're exhausted."

"That just sounds patronizing."

"Sorry. I'm tired. I have a headache. It's been a long day."

They walked down the hall, side by side. She was still keeping her weight off her right side. "Yeah. It was."

They stopped in front of her door, facing each other. Her green eyes peered up at him, still bright despite the fact she looked like hell. They weren't as close as they had been in the kitchen, and whatever had passed between them was unfortunately gone. It was probably for the best. She wouldn't want someone like him. She deserved someone good, not the walking human wreckage he was. Someone who hadn't killed more people who he could remember. Who didn't have a nightmare for a past, and could tell her the truth about who he was.

She honestly deserved that, but he ignored it. In that second, he ignored everything, and strengthened his resolve, leaning down and kissing her cheek as lightly as he possibly could. Before he could see her reaction, the inevitable rejection or acceptance, both of which he dreaded, he pulled away, practically running to his room, almost slamming his door. He froze, wondering what the hell he had been thinking. That was not a good idea. God only knows what would have happened if he actually kissed her. And yet somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel elated. He was sure he had felt like this before... Before it all gone to hell.

Sitting down on his bed, he put he groaned. Yeah. None of this was helping with his headache.

* * *

Cara stared at her self in the mirror, as she tried to clean herself up the best she could. She hadn't been entirely honest with Bucky.

She had been jumped. And she had fought back. It wasn't all a lie. But there was a little bit more to it than that.

_Cara had noticed them when Bucky had spun her around. He hadn't been to busy focusing on her to notice the man watching them. Not vaguely amused or offended by his obvious act of affection, but like a hawk watching mice. He didn't look like the other man who had followed them, but was wearing a black shirt, dark jeans and jacket, talking enthusiastically on his phone. But watching them. When he kept following them, she knew what she had to do. As they approached the doors of their building, Cara gave Bucky a smile, telling him to go on up. _

_And then she had slipped into angry spy who did not appreciate being tailed mode. _

_The man followed her, as she knew he assumed she would be an easier target, and possible leverage against the Winter Soldier. She was certainly going to prove him wrong. _

_She ducked into an alley, making sure he had to speed up to catch her, and as he rounded the corner sharply, she made her move, lashing out with her feet and tripping him. __He stumbled, spinning around, and hitting her hard in the face as he tried to catch himself. She gave him a solid punch to the jaw, knocking a man to the ground for the second time that day. _

_He reached for a gun at his side, which she kicked out of his hand, and picked it up, pointing it at his head. _

_"Who are you?" She said. He glared up at her, and then something flashed in his eyes, a look of smug triumph as a something hard hit her head, making everything go dark._

* * *

_She woke up, her face covered by something heavy. Her wrists were pressed tightly together, bound with a plastic tie, upper arms digging into the back of a hard chair. She heard murmuring somewhere else in the room, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't catch their words. Quietly, she to try and break the seal on them. This wasn't her first time in a situation like this, and it probably wouldn't be her last. _

_After a few minutes, the voices stopped. Footsteps approached. She decided to wait until she had a visual on the room before she made her move. _

_The bag was ripped off violently. She blinked a few times, squinting under the harsh sudden, fluorescent light. _

_There were two of them, looking similar enough to be twins, with red hair and dark eyes. The one holding the bag smiled down at her. One was the one wearing the black shirt, the other a white. White Shirt stood by a table, where a gun, an old Polaroid camera, and several knives. He had one in his hand, wiping the steel surface with _

_"You awake, sweetheart?" The one near her said. She glared at him defiantly. "You have a solid hook, I'll give you that."_

_"What do you want?" She said, her voice shaking. She was doing a wonderful job of trying to act afraid while acting brave, if she did say so herself. She had forgotten how addicting this was, the adrenaline of possible death, and the ecstasy of becoming another person. Maybe she wasn't lying to Bucky as much as she thought she was. Maybe Cara Fox really was the true version of her. Because this. This was becoming truly another person, so that no one would ever see her. This was what she both hated and loved. _

_He knelt in front of her. The other man smirked, continuing to clean the knife, and spinning it lightly on the table. _

_"We want him," he said, resting his hand on her knee. "I know you know that. I know you know he's not normal. And you're going to sit here, all pretty while we take a picture to send to him. Then he'll find you and you'll be nice and together, and we'll get our money, and everyone will be happy."_

_She cast a terrified look down, her lip trembling. "Are you going to hurt him?"_

_"If he fights. You'll convince him not to, right?"_

_She nodded slowly, letting tears form in her eyes, turning away. He should up, moving behind her, and grabbing her chin, lifting her head up. White Shirt, still playing with the knife tossed it over, picking up a camera. Black Shirt caught it easily. She tensed, ready to break out at any second. The cold blade touched her neck, and his other hand slipped into her hair, pulling her head back._

"_Don't move. You move, and I might cut you. That would ruin the picture, wouldn't it?"_

_White Shirt raised the camera, smiling slightly, as the man behind her spoke. _

"_Now, look sufficiently terrified, and say cheese!"_

_The telltale click sounded after the flash, and the knife dropped from her neck, and he moved back to kneel in front of her._

"_You look scared. Don't worry, love. You'll be fine as long your boyfriend doesn't make too much trouble." _

_"How did you find us?"_

_He chuckled. "Accident, really, sweetheart. Just out and about and happened to recognize your boyfriend from the reward posters."_

_There. That was what she needed. They just bounty hunters. Not too dangerous. Her eyes snapped open as she lashed out with her feet, catching his neck, and twisting til she heard a snap. He fell back, and the other man lunged forward. Snapping the restraints, she ducked out of reach, driving forwards the table with the weapons. Her hand barely brushed the handle of a gun, when someone tackled her, throwing her to the ground. She cried out when her shoulder collided with the ground. She was aware of the gun clattering beside her. _

_She looked up to see the second man, bring his foot back against her side, making her cry out, looking murderous, fist colliding with her face, before they closed tightly around her neck, thumbs pressing on her trachea. She began to cough, as the sinking feeling of panic invaded her thoughts. She tried to pry his fingers off, but he simply squeezed tighter. _

"_You killed him!" He screeched. "You killed him, you killed him!" _

_Dark spots danced behind her eyes, and she managed to get into a position where she could kick up, into his chest, and off of her. He grunted in surprise, letting her go. Gasping, she dove to the side, grabbing the weapon, and pointing it at him, still lying on the floor. _

"_Who else knows about us?" She said, still fighting for breath, struggling to her feet. He looked up at her, eyes dark, hatred burning in them. "Who. Else. Knows. About. Us?" When he still didn't answer, she pointed it sharply at his knee, pulling the trigger. _

_The deafening sound of the shot, quickly followed by his scream echoed around the small room. _

"_I won't let any of you take him away from me! Who's coming for us?"_

"_Do you think we're stupid?" he groaned through clenched teeth. "Let some HYDRA dream team come get you after we give away your location, and not get the reward?"_

"_How are they transmitting the information?"_

"_Honey, in my business, you learn not to ask questions. I get a call with an amount of money and a face, and I do it."_

_She took another deep breath, before pointing it back at him again. he met her eyes, and she knew that if she didn't kill him, he'd come back for her. He'd make her pay. He'd give away Bucky's position to everyone, and make sure that she payed for killing the other man. Without another second's hesitation, she pulled the trigger. _

_Everything fell silent, and she lay there, alone in a room with two corpses. She shut her eyes, trying to figure out what to do. Picking up her phone off the table, she scrolled thorough the names, before her eyes landed on Sybil's._

_As it rang, she walked over to the fallen Polaroid photo, picking it up. _

"_Sybil," she hissed. "I swear if you don't pick up, I'll-"_

_"Hello, Sybil's Pizza delivery, except not to Tony, cause he's an ass," was the upbeat answer. \_

"_Sybil, I need you to call someone."_

"_Cara? What? Why? And that was rude, you didn't even say hi. I know you have a phone, you're calling me on it. Is this one of those prank games? Am I going to prank call Darcy? Or Clint? Or New Guy?"_

"_Listen. Call Claire. I have a situation."_

"_Like Fixer Claire, and her gang? The dead people people?"_

"_Yes. Don't ask where I am, trace this. Trace this now." _

"_Cara, did you kill someone."_

"_Would I be calling you to call up a cleaning crew because I didn't?"_

"_Good point. I have your signal. Be gone by the time they're there, and they'll never know it was you."_

"_Thanks."_

"_Cara, are you okay?"_

"_I'll tell you all about this later. I promise."_

"_I'll hold you to that. Talk to you later."_

_Cara hung up without another word, watching the picture finish forming. She didn't look terrified. She didn't look like anyone would with a knife to their neck. She didn't look like Cara Fox. In that moment, she was back to being Agent Fletcher. empty. Dead. Someone who didn't care about anything. Putting it away in her pocket, she began to limp out of the building, beginning the long walk back. _

So, there she stood, staring at herself in the mirror. Bucky had looked like a wreck when finally managed to get back, and she had looked much worse. And then... He made it very clear about how he felt about her. He cared about her. And she cared about him. But no matter how much she wanted it to, she couldn't let it go any farther. That was for normal people.

Pulling the picture out of her pocket, she put it on the counter. She couldn't afford to be normal. To think like a civilian, to fall in love with him. Today had proved that. She need to bury both their feelings. She need him to stop caring about her like that. What she need was a distraction.

Something caught her eye. A piece of paper stuck to the back of the picture. Pulling it off, she saw the scrawled red numbers. A distraction. She lifted her eyes to look in the mirror, staring at herself, and it was then she knew exactly what she was going to have to do.

She was going to have to break his heart.

Walking out to her bed, she sat down, burying her face in her hands. For some reason, it still made her chest ache to think about having to do this to him. And her. The selfish part reminded her of that.

And it was then, she also knew for.

She wasn't just going to break his.

**A/N: **Thank you for all the feedback on this! Made my day! This is my longest chapter to date, and I'm a little rushed there at that end. Going on vacation in a few hours, so I won't have any internet access for a few days, but I didn't want to leave it like this. Hope it worked out well, but there's a slight possibility I'll have to go back and fix somethings.

My sister insisted I name the dead people cleaners after her. (That conversation was fun. "Hey. What should I call the people who clean up dead people for spies?" "Name them after me." "What?" "NAME. THEM. AFTER. ME. And say this in your author note!")


	17. Deceit

_"Give me __**the way it could have been**__  
Give me the __**ghost**__ that's __**on the screen**__  
Give me the way but not the means  
__**Give me it all."**_

_**\- Give It All, Foals**_

_**[chapter edited june 9th, 2016]**_

_**A/N:**__ THE FIRST HALF IS NEW. THANKS_

_It was long before the fall of SHIELD. _

_She couldn't remember exactly when. _

_Her team was still together. She ran her fingers through her hair, smiling slightly at the reflection in the mirror in front of her._

_"What are you thinking about?" Cassius said from behind her. His hand ghosted over her lower back._

_"Nothing," she said, turning around, and wrapping her arms around his neck. He smiled at her._

_(He always smiled at her... but he hadn't, not at first, not when they were starting out. It had been more grudging acceptance at being forced to worked together. It had been sharp remarks, and her last name tied on to brief sentences, like 'Hurry, Fletcher.' or 'Shut up, Fletcher.' or 'Why do I always have to save you?'_

_But it was alright. She had known where his loyalties were, and they were with her, and SHIELD, and their team. She trusted him. Then there had been a mission that they had worked together alone, and it had, as usual all gone to shit, and he had taken a bullet for her._

_She still remembered it, even now with remarkable clarity, the way the mercenary had pulled out a gun, and she had froze. She remembered thinking about how this was it for her, and how, suddenly, she was pushed aside, landing hard on the concrete. She remembered the gravel and loose rocks biting into her hands, and how when she had looked up he was staring at her, hands on his stomach, blood spilling from behind his fingers._

_She had saved his life, dragging him out of there, and killing the one who did it. He had looked at her, when he woke up in the hospital, and smiled, and called Cara. Her heart had almost beaten clean out of it's chest then.)_

_Like it was now, an unsteady thump that she was positive he heard._

_So maybe she was lying to him, saying she was thinking about nothing, but she was a spy, and spies lied. He understood that, and he knew who she was, and he didn't care. He was with her, and she trusted him, and it felt like they could take on the world, and that felt good._

_He still smiled as she kissed him._

_Months later, as she brought her knees up to her chest as she sat in the corner, and stared vacantly at the wall, trying to forget, she wondered how she could have been so stupid as to imagine that she could be happy. How she could have been naive enough to believe that in her world, there was ever a chance at normalcy. How there could ever be a place where the universe didn't take everything away from her._

_She tried to forget him, but no matter what she could still feel his hands on her waist, and his smile on her lips... and his blood on her hands._

_She shut her eyes._

_She could never let this happen again._

Hours after he had shut the door to his room, leaving her alone, Bucky heard her door open.

He had been laying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands clasped over his chest, feeling the dull beat of his heart beneath his fingers, breathing in and out slowly. There were a million things he had to think about, keeping away any chance of sleep.

He heard her soft footsteps, and the gentle creak of the floorboards. He sat up slowly, listening to the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, and glass clinking. His feet brushed the floor silently, as he made his way out, pausing in the shadows hallway. She was standing with her hands braced on the counter, eyes shut, head bent, breathing heavily and unevenly. The only light came from outside, casting deep shadows across her face, making her look haunted and tired. Next to her was a bottle of whiskey, or something, the dull liquid still sloshing around.

He took another step forward, and her head snapped up. There was a look in her eyes, almost like a wild animal that was cornered. It softened slightly as she looked at him, and her hands dropped to her sides, and she stood up straighter, like a soldier being watched. She took a step back, grabbing the bottle.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," she said. "Sorry."

"You didn't," he said, shaking his head. "I couldn't sleep."

She gave him a shrug, and began to walk towards her room. "Still. I'm sorry." The way she said it made it sound like there was more she was apologizing for than just making him get up. He caught her elbow as she tried to pass him, and she froze.

"You okay?" he murmured. She shot him a dull look. There was a sadness, and a longing, and a fear, and he wasn't sure what to make of any of it. She paused, and glanced down, pulling away from him.

"Come sit with me," she said quietly, not answering him, as she turned away, walking down the hall towards her room. He followed her hesitantly, pausing in the doorway as she crawled onto her bed, leaning against the bed board, drawing her knees up to her chest. He sat down on the edge of the bed, as she glanced at him, holding the bottle out. He took it after a moment. There was really no way to explain that he couldn't get drunk anymore.

"You know," she said, watching him take a drink. It burned his throat and stomach, and he knew it was pointless. He always knew he didn't care. He handed it back to her. "I used to be afraid of needles when I was younger. _Aichmophobia_. That's what it's called, I think. Couldn't get a shot until I was fourteen without panicking and almost passing out. Still don't like them at all."

He nodded. "Don't like them either," he said. He vaguely remembered being in the army, and having to get a shit ton of shots to protect against things some of the men got anyways. He remembered, very clearly, something being stabbed into his arm, of something rushing through his veins, burning him alive while he lay in the dark. No. He didn't like needles.

But it wasn't the worst thing out there.

"The dark, though," he said. "That was worse. Hated the dark as a kid."

"What about now?" she said, taking another drink.

He shrugged. "I know how to survive in the dark now," he said. "Doesn't bother me as much." That was a lie. It still did, sometimes, while he was lying alone in his bed, and he could hear screams and he wasn't sure if he was dreaming, or if it was real, and he didn't dare move to find out.

"What are you afraid of now?" she asked, looking genuinely curious. He hesitated, glancing away. There were too many answers to that question.

"Don't know."

She studied him carefully, tilting her head. "Clowns." she said, surely.

"What?"

"Clowns," she repeated. "You're afraid of clowns."

"What makes you say that?"

"I mean, it's a reasonable guess," she said. "Clowns are _creepy_."

"I'm not afraid of clowns."

"Okay," she said. "Cats."

"Why would anyone be afraid of cats?" he said. "They're small, and they... just sit there."

"I don't know, people just are," she said. "What about mirrors?"

"It's what they reflect that I don't like," Bucky muttered. She tilted her head, mouth becoming a hard line. He looked away.

"What then?" she said, thankfully not mentioning his last comment.

"The cold," he said. "I don't like the cold. I'm not afraid of it. I just... I don't like it."

She nodded. "Yeah," she said. It was almost like she understood. She couldn't, though. How could she?

"And there's... I know it's not a real fear, but..." he said, before he could stop himself. "No, no, never mind, it's stupid. Never mind."

"It's alright," she said. "What is it?"

"_You_," he said. She looked at him sharply. "I was worried about you, when you didn't come home. I'm afraid... you'll get hurt, and I'll be alone again. I can't... I can't go back to being alone again."

She was quiet, before gently touching his arm. He leaned into it, feeling like he was back with needles jammed into him again, like fire was beneath it skin, but it didn't hurt this time. Her touch made his heart beat faster, made his breath stop, like a poison he couldn't fight. She shifted, making room beside her, and he moved as close as he could without actually touching her. There was some comfort in this, in not being alone when the was sun was gone, when it was dark.

She took another drink, staring off into the distance, at some point he couldn't see.

"You okay?" he repeated. She broke out of her trance, glancing up at him. She paused, and shook her head slowly.

"I don't think I've been fine for a very long time," she murmured. Something deep within in him wanted to ask what was wrong, but he knew she didn't like questions any more than he did. Hesitantly, he reached for her hand, running his thumb over her bruised, bloody knuckles. His skin ran with sparks when she entwined their fingers, squeezing gently.

"I was a soldier," he said. She stared up at him. "I mean, I still am. I don't think anyone can stop being a soldier. Maybe I thought it was my duty, or a way better way to take care of my family, I don't know. Don't remember. I enlisted when I was young, and dumb, and I got more out of it than I thought. Got this," he said, lifting up his metal hand, waving at her. "Got a head full of nightmares, and bad memories, and... and other things. Got to find out my family died while I was gone, that _they_ thought _I _had died..."

He trailed off, and she offered him the bottle. He took it, using it as an excuse to stop talking for a few minutes.

"I haven't been fine in a long time either," he finished.

"I'm sorry, Bucky," she said.

"Don't be sorry," he said. "Don't you ever be sorry for what's happened to me. It's not your fault."

She fell silent for a while, and he sat back, watching the flash of headlights as cars passed their building, and the dull sounds of the city that never slept, sirens and the distant roar of engines. She tilted her head, leaning against his shoulder, sighing softly.

"Sometimes, I think I'm cursed," she said. "Every one around me... I lose them. It's my fault, right? I mean, it has to be."

His hand tightened on hers. "You won't lose me," he said.

"You say that now," she said, and there was a apathetic dread in her tone, like she simply _knew_ it was going to happen. "But if you knew me, the real me... what would you think of me then? Or- or what if something happens to you?"

"Nothing will," he said firmly. "You won't lose me." She looked up at him. Her eyes were dark, and she was close to him, closer than she had been in the kitchen. He could see, even in the dark, each of the bruises on her face and neck, her busted lip, and it _hurt_, it _hurt_ to see her like this. She lightly brushed his hair away from his face, as she searched it, like she was trying to read his mind.

"I'll hold you to that, Bucky Barnes," she said finally, leaning up and kissing him gently on the cheek. "I'll hold you to that."

He was completely still for a moment, frozen there, before he stood up slowly, pulling away from her, snatching the bottle from her hands.

"_Hey," _she said indignantly.

"You have work tomorrow," he said.

"Won't be able to sleep without it," she muttered.

He shook his head, walking away from her. "Try to, though? Get some sleep, I mean."

"For you," she said, crossing her arms tightly around her. He could see her fingers turning white from where he was. "Only for you."

"Good," he said. "Goodnight, Cara."

"'Night, Bucky," she said, and he could feel her eyes on his back as he walked away. Reaching the doorway, he paused.

"Falling," he said suddenly, turning back around. Bracing his arm on the frame of the door, he sighed. It felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest, the weight of a thousand sleepless nights spent falling in his nightmares, reliving it _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again. "I'm afraid of falling."

She gave him a small smile. "Me too," she murmured with a quiet laugh, eyes darting away from him, and down to her hands, red in the light from the window, as she breathed out slowly. "_Me too._"

* * *

Walking to and from work the next day had been oddly quiet. Bucky seemed a little off, staring off into space for long periods of time, in his usual chair, not looking at her, or any of the others. His hand was shaking. She made a mental note to keep a close eye on it.

The next several days were quiet, as the bruises covering her body turned a sickly yellow color, before nearly fading. Bucky made no attempt to address what happened, either part of it, although he refused to let her walk without him, seeming nervous whenever they did, not being subtle about the fact that he was looking for people following. He wandered off when they got to home, leaving her alone, to put into action the plan that would push him away.

She had sat there for what felt like hours after work. Making the call made her despise herself. Hearing Lewis's elated voice on the other end was even worse. She was doing this for Bucky, she told herself. It would be easier for him to let go. Easier for neither of them to be compromised. Easier for her to handle, to keep control of the situation. She was doing this for him. She would do anything for him.

She would do anything for her Soldier, except fall in love with him.

That would be asking for trouble.

Cara knocked on the door frame of Bucky's room, the door itself slightly ajar, He looked up from where he sat on the floor, idly flipping a knife in his hands while reading, the book lying on the ground. It was dark, the windows drawn, the only light coming from lamp in the corner, and filtering through the window. He smiled when he saw her, his face lighting up.

"Bucky," she said. The words almost physically hurt as they stuck in her throat. "I need to get ready, but I'm expecting someone. Can you answer the door if I'm not out in time?"

He nodded, standing up, leaving the knife and book on the ground. "Who is it?"

"It's going to be my... Date."

He looked vaguely confused. "Date?"

She took a deep breath. "I met a guy. And he asked me out to dinner. I said... I said yes."

Bucky's face fell, eyes dark. He didn't look at her. "Oh."

"He'll be here around seven. I'll try to be out by then, it's just-. I don't want you to be surprised- I just want you to know. If I'm not out when he gets here, just let him in."

He nodded slowly, face slowly closing off. She started to say something, but turned away.

_I'm sorry, _she wanted to say._ I'm sorry I'm doing this, I'm sorry I'm lying, I'm sorry I worked for SHIELD, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, if you knew who I was, you wouldn't even care, and I'm sorry for that too. _But she didn't say any of it. She kept silent. Like the fucking coward she was.

"Cara," he said. She looked at him, "I... You'll be careful, right? Call me if anything happens?"

He sounded almost like he did way back, when he was borderline terrified around her, but insisting he wanted to make sure she was okay.

She gave him a small smile. "Yeah. You don't need to worry about me."

He nodded, staring at her for a moment, looking a little lost, a little hurt, and a little uncertain. She turned, and left the room, feeling his eyes burning a hole in her back. And as she shut the door to her room, she was positive she heard the echoing sound of a knife being stabbed into the floor.

* * *

It was raining.

Of course it was.

Clouds had been gathering for the past hour, making his already dark room darker. The dull yellow glow of the streetlamps laid strange shadows on his wall, with the gleaming cuts of cars light striking even stranger patterns in the wall.

From the corner of the room where he sat, leaning against the wall, arm resting on his knee, he was almost completely hidden in shadows. For a moment, he wondered if he was ever supposed to leave this. Maybe in the shadows was where he belonged.

The room lit up suddenly, as lightning filled the sky. His eyes drifted towards the center of the room, where he had been sitting only moments before, and where the knife was now embedded in the floorboards. He hadn't meant to do that, ruin her floor. It was in his hand, and he was thinking, about Cara, about that look in her eye that she had tried so hard to cover up, like she was guilty and scared, looking like at that moment, not even her could control what he saw on her face, and then it was like times had sped up, and then there was stabbing pang of what felt like some form of jealousy, he wasn't quite sure, and then suddenly, the knife was in the floor, and he had pulled back into the corner.

He knew he was being irrational, he told himself. She was perfectly within her rights to have a relationship with someone else. They didn't really have a relationship, at least not like that.

It still hurt, and he wasn't really sure why. To be honest, everything had been hurting for the past few days. His head hadn't, if anything, the pressure seemed to be increasing. There were moments where he wasn't quite sure what had just happened, moments becoming blurs, and even worse, blank patches. There was times when the light felt too bright, and the usual noises of the city too loud. He was exhausted, and couldn't feel like he deal with anything else right now.

He shut his eyes, listening to the gentle sound of the rain hitting the glass of the window. It had been years since he had heard the rain. He in a landscape that was yellow with a wide gray sky, in a house along a single road. Someone had been taking to him then, as he looked out the window at the rain falling to ground. Someone had been saying something, and those words had been so important to him at the time, but now they were lost, possibly for good. He couldn't even remember the voice that said them, or the face, or even the context, and that hurt too.

A knock on the door broke through his thoughts. He stood up slowly, swaying slightly once he was on his feet, taking a deep breath, That be for Cara. Walking forward, he focused all his energy on not falling to his knees, his hands trembling. The exhaustion was deep in his bones, When he reached the door, he had to take a moment to remember to hide his hand in the pocket of his jacket, even though he had had the hindsight to put on a glove. His other one lingered on the cold handle as he took a deep breath, as he opened it.

The man was leaning in the door, and Bucky hated him almost immediately on sight. Maybe it was his smile, or his the look in his eyes, or the fact that he was going to be the one taking Cara out tonight. The man looked vaguely confused for a second, until Bucky found himself speaking.

"You're here for Cara," he said, grudgingly opening the door. Cara had asked him to let him in. She never asked him to like it.

The man nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to take her out," he said. Bucky simply gave him a steely glare, as the man coughed, extending his hand, stepping in. "I'm Lewis."

Bucky carefully shook his hand, trying not to let any of his emotions show. "Bucky."

The man... Lewis, looked at him, obviously uncomfortable. His eyes darted around the room.

"So," he said. "How do you know Cara?"

"We're... Friends."

"That it?"

Bucky crossed his arms. "Why do you want to know?"

Lewis raised his hands. "Look. I just want to make sure I'm not stepping on any toes here."

"She's my friend," Bucky said. "Nothing more, nothing less."

_Lie,_ he thought. _She's more than that. She's the only thing I have. And if you hurt her, nothing will be able to save you._

"Just as long as you don't mind."

"I don't mind anything. This is her choice, and I want whatever she does."

Something changed ever so slightly in the man's eyes, and Bucky felt it, right then. That this was not a good person. That he wasn't who he said he was. He didn't know how he knew, he didn't know if his judgement could be trusted, but he did know that Cara was going to be alone with this man, and that that idea put him on edge.

"Well," a voice said. Bucky turned around. Cara stood in the doorway, wearing a black dress, hair loose around her shoulders, and shit, she looked beautiful. It made the gaping pain in his chest feel even worse. "You two have met."

He felt himself immediately move towards her, standing at her side, partially blocking her from Lewis. He caught her hand as he looked down, not quite at her, leaning down, their fingers gently tangling together. He could tell she was surprised at the action, as she squeezed his hand slightly.

"Be careful," he said again, too quietly for Lewis to hear. "Don't scare me again. Please, be careful."

"You don't have to worry about me," she said, and she smiled at him, and he then he knew that she was going to be fine, that despite her being Cara, perfect Cara, that she was just as dangerous as either of the men in the room. Probably more so. He didn't know how he knew. But Cara was going to be fine.

He was pushing past her, her fingers still clinging to his. He was the one to let go, before he looked back. She was staring at him, hair swaying slightly, and he saw that she was worried, about him, and that she was scared, and he saw regret, and something else, something more dangerous, and deeper, and so much sadder than he had ever seen on her face before, and it was feeling more and more like he was running away as he stumbled into his room.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was falling into his bed, and it felt like every muscle in his body was burning from fatigue, and as he shut his eyes, he still saw her, looking at him, looking like she actually saw him, looking like she knew who he was and didn't care about it.

But she was gone. She didn't want him. He didn't blame her. He didn't want to _be_ him.

He shut his eyes. It was too much, and he felt like his mind was going to explode.

He shut his eyes. The darkness of sleep claimed him, and he let himself revel in the peace and absolution it brought.

He shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, he would not know where he was.

* * *

When she left the apartment, it felt like she had left a part of herself up there. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't focus. She had made polite conversation all the way there, under his umbrella, laughing when she should, saying some witty comment here and there, but by the time she had sat down at the restaurant, she realized she couldn't use this for what it was. Some sort of twisted, painful distraction with someone who wasn't a threat. And why? Because of him. Because of Bucky Barnes. Because he had looked sick, he skin had felt too hot beneath her hand, because this wasn't working. He still looked at her like he cared too much.

She wondered if he was okay. His hands had been shaking on and off, and that had been what felt like a fever. He hadn't been acting like himself, but whenever she asked, he brushed off her concern and said he was fine. Maybe she should have taken him to a doctor.

It took her a second to realize Lewis had been saying something, waiting for a reply.

"Sorry," she said, letting a small, slightly embarrassed smile creep onto her face. "What?"

He laughed. "I asked if you had lived in New York long."

She shook her head. "Moved around a lot before this. Only been here a few months."

"Like it so far?"

"It's nice," she said. "What about you?"

"Fresh in from Star City. Rogue, vigilante archers, terrorist attacks, murders. It was getting a bit much for me."

"So you came to New York?" She said, raising her eyebrows. "You know what happens around here?"

He shrugged. "At least Iron Man tells people he wears a mask. And what are the chances of another alien attack? Lightning never strikes the same place twice."

She gave a noncommittal noise. The chances were probably very high with her luck.

"Anyways, it was this or Gotham. No way I'd go to that hell hole."

She gave a small laugh. "You know, New York is just as bad. Hell's Kitchen is overrun with the mob, and-"

He cut her off. "Well, I'll just avoid those areas. Point is, New York is better than Starling City, or Gotham, or even DC. At least it isn't overrun with crazy archers, and SHIELD, and HYDRA and who knows what else."

"At least that," she said quietly. She didn't think that Clint was in town anymore, so maybe he was right about New York lacking in the "crazy archer" department. But he was definitely wrong about the SHIELD, and HYDRA. She wondered if Bucky counted as HYDRA, or if he was "who knows what else". He was a little bit of both, she decided. He had been HYDRA'S, but he hadn't been with them. He would never willingly claim allegiance to them. The old Bucky had fought them, and they twisted him into to something horrible. The new Bucky would keep fighting them if given the chance. She didn't doubt it.

Lewis had been talking again, and then he leaned across the table, and took her hand. It made her jump. She hadn't jumped when Bucky took hers. He didn't seem to notice, if anything, holding it tighter. She remembered Bucky's hand shaking beneath hers, the heat coming from his skin. She had to get back to him.

This wasn't working.

This wasn't distracting her from what it was she felt for Bucky, it was distracting her from her mission, protecting him. keeping him safe.

This wasn't working, and she needed to be back with him.

She stood up suddenly, yanking her hand her hand sharply back. Lewis stared at her, as she began to back away.

"I'm sorry, Lewis," she said, standing up. "I made a mistake. I can't do this anymore."

His smile began to fade. "What?"

She wrapped her arms around herself, beginning to walk away. "I'm sorry. This isn't fair to anyone. I like you, but this... This is not right. I'm sorry."

"Wait!" She heard him begin to follow her, as she stepped out into the rain, grabbing her arm tightly. Not like how Bucky did, like she was the last thing in the world, like he didn't want to hurt her, like he wouldn't let anyone else hurt her either. No, this grip was painful, nails digging into her skin, and when she looked up at him, she was positive he meant it.

Something flickered in his eyes. Something that suddenly made her nervous. A hint of cunning, of ambition, of deceit. She thought about what she had promised Bucky.

_"Be careful. Don't scare me again. Please, be careful."_

_"You don't have to worry about me."_

She made a mistake.

"You can't just leave!"

She pulled back sharply, walking faster.

"Don't," she said quietly, and she didn't care that she sounded angry, dangerous. "I told you, I'm sorry, but I can't do this. It isn't fair."

"To who?"

She didn't answer.

"Tell me, goddammit, TO WHO?"

She didn't look back, didn't walk any faster, didn't want to look like she was running, didn't answer, just crossed her arms tightened around her as the rain fell down harder.

"He won't be there forever, you know! You'll lose him! Like you lose them all!"

The words hit her almost as hard as a punch. She spun around, not sure what she was going to say, because that had sounded too much like a threat. What she saw didn't make her feel any better.

Lewis was gone.

Just... gone. Like dust.

She shuddered despite herself, and turned back, knowing she had to get back to Bucky. She had to get back to Bucky.

The cold rain dripped down her back, making her shiver, her hair sticking to her face and neck. The streets seemed too quiet for a night in New York, and as the minutes dragged on, she felt everything begin to crash down on her.

She was trapped. People were hunting her, and the person she had sworn to protect, and she had no idea who they were, and which ones wanted which, and the prospect of either succeeding was terrifying. And she could always leave him, and possibly give them both a better chance, but that scared her almost as much as the idea of being found did.

Not to mention, her judgement had been wrong. Lewis had been a threat, and she should have seen it. If she had been wrong about that, what else would mess up on. She had been wrong, and she couldn't afford to be wrong in this game.

It threatened to make her break down, right there in the street. She actually had to stop and shut her eyes, leaning against the wall, heart beating too fast, breaths coming too fast.

She was scared. She hated being scared.

She felt like she was about to fall, and there she was just waiting for it to finally happen.

Maybe she should let just go. She had lost Amatus. Cassius. Vela. Coulson. Sybil. Then SHIELD. Now, she was losing herself, Cara Fletcher, perfect spy. And people wanted to take Bucky, the only thing she had, away as well.

The cocking of a gun made her look up sharply.

A young man, face in the shadows, but obviously barely more than a child stared back at her.

His hand trembled. He obviously wasn't used to the weight of a gun.

"H-hand over your money!"

She stared at him dully, not moving. In fact, she almost felt like laughing. This was just too much. Of course. Of course she had to be mugged today. On the day she felt like she was drowning in her own mind. The man shook it in her face, failing to look intimidating, and it was hilarious. This whole cosmic joke that she was forced to live was fucking hilarious. She shut her eyes, pressed her head against the wall, tilting her chin up, a dark chuckle escaping her lips.

"I mean it!" He said. "I'll shoot you! I mean it!"

"Do it," she said, turning to him, the mirthless smile still frozen on her lips. _Pull the trigger, it'll be the perfect punchline._ "I don't have anything anyways. I don't have anything left."

He frowned at her, almost begging her simply to give him something. Anything.

She felt too tired to try and talk her way out of this. She had nothing.

Almost like he was dreading it, his finger slowly began to tighten on the trigger.

Suddenly, something the kid to the side, while lashing out and pushing her out of the way. She stumbled back, catching the familiar glimmer of silver on his arm, as he tackled the would-be shooter to the ground.

Even if she couldn't see his face, she heard herself murmur his name in surprise.

"Bucky?"

**A/N: **

THIS IS A BAD COPING MECHANISM ON CARA'S PART DON'T DO ANYTHING SHE DOES GOT IT SHE IS IN A BAD PLACE MENTALLY AND EMOTIONALLY. cara is definitely suffering from ptsd and depression throughout this entire story, but i think here is where it's most abundantly clear. she's convinced that she's going to end up alone, as every one of her friends has left her in some way or another, and she's blaming herself, because that's what people do. themes/motifs here are ones you're going to see again, especially in the St. James chapters

i just thought this would be nice and kinda make Cara's actions/thought/motivations make more sense, plus give more context to that one chapter in the future

I did just do a bad, bad thing, and smashed the DC and Marvel universes together. I'm not even sorry. (No DC knowledge is needed. I'm just having emotions). Vertigo comics definitely are, and I'm totally ready to like, kidnap like John Constantine or Nightwing or Delirium if I have to.


	18. Folie à Deux

**A/N: **Song for this chapter, Sinister Kid by the Black Keys.

It's like he came in in the middle of an argument, but the argument was in his head.

"_Well, if you're enlisting, I am too."_

"_You don't have to do that-"_

It was very dark. Bucky was aware of himself moving, walking, occasionally, glimpsing a car speed by, a flash of a streetlamp, another person.

"_Nah, you're right though. People over there are dying. Gotta do my part. Anyway, who'd keep an eye on you if you went over alone?"_

He could hear some saying something, asking for help. Screaming, begging for help.

"_I'm not a kid, Buck."_

"_Tell that too all the people you keep fighting in alleys."_

There were people. They were trying to fight him. Why? He had been trying to save the person crying for help. And they didn't want him to. So he fought back.

_A laugh, but even in his memory, it didn't sound quite genuine, sounding forced and pained. "You got me there."_

Was he sitting down? Had he won? Was there ever a winner?

_"Listen, I'm with you til the end of the line, pal. And if the end of the line is in Nazi Germany, so be it." _

It faded out like the last line in a movie, leaving him alone in a dark sort of empty consciousness he was only vaguely aware of, like he was falling through the void of space itself. Soon he was left listening to only his constant beating of blood in his ears.

There was music playing. He kept his eyes shut, as the sounds of guitars, someone singing, faded in and out of his consciousness.

_Well, the crooks are out _

_And the streets are gray _

_You know I wouldn't have it _

_Any other way..._

He was sitting up, back flat against the wall. It felt like his eyelids were painted with lead, and his arms felt too heavy to move. It was like he was frozen. Again.

_A sinister kid is a kid who _

_Runs to meet his Maker _

_A drop dead sprint from the day he's born _

_Straight into his Maker's arms._

Where was he? He didn't think that he was home. Where was home, anyways?

_And that's me, that's me _

_The boy with the broken halo _

_That's me, that's me _

_The devil won't let me be_

He let out a small groan, still not able to will himself to move. It was raining, the cold water trickling down his neck.

_I got a tortured mind _

_And my blade is sharp _

_A bad combination _

_In the dark._

"Soldier?"

Bucky opened his eyes slowly. A small child (Four? Five?) peered peered up at him, her blonde hair pulled into two braids, green eyes bright. She held a small toy, some sort of animal, sucking her thumb, sitting cross legged in front of him. She was wearing oversized, ragged clothing, the jacket looking military, and on her wrist was a band reading 550. She looked familiar.

"Why are you sleeping?"

"Go away, girl. My head hurts."

"You're sleeping in the street."

Bucky looked was leaning against the wall of a small alley, the song flowing out of a slightly ajar door to his left. He had no idea how he got here. He had been in falling asleep, and then he had been talking to Steve about enlisting, and now...

_And that's me, that's me _

_The boy with the broken halo _

Trying to stand up, he was suddenly aware of something in his hands.

_That's me, that's me _

He was holding his knife, covered in the same blood that was all over his hands and shirt. That was the He suddenly felt even worse, nauseated and dizzy.

_The devil won't let me be_

He looked up sharply. The girl stared back at him.

"How did I get here? What happened?"

"I dunno," she said. She looked down at the toy. It was a bear or something. "I'm tryna think of a name for it. I like Jamie. Do you like Jamie?"

He paused. "I know you, don't I?"

"Uh huh. I know you too, Soldier. You have a star on your arm," she stated, as it was the only thing that was mildly strange about his arm. She looked back at the bear-thing toy, and back up at him suddenly, slightly offended. "It's not a bear, it's a fox!"

"Who are you?"

"I dunno."

"Wait," he said, and suddenly her face fell into his mind like the last piece of a puzzle. "You're the one they assigned me to protect." She grinned, and hugged the toy tighter.

"But. That was years ago. Over twenty now. Right?" She nodded. "You're not real, are you, girl? You're in my head."

She shook her head. "You let them take me away, and you knew what was going to happen."

"Am I going crazy?"

"No. Maybe."

"How did I get here?"

"I dunno."

"Who... Who did I hurt?" He looked at his shaking hands, then back at the girl.

"Bad people. Don't worry. They were very bad."

"How do you know that?" he whispered.

"I'm in your head, Soldier. I know what you know."

"Where am I?"

She held the fox out to him, with both hands. "Jamie knows. Jamie knows everything. Foxes always know everything. You should find your fox," she said, leaning forward, whispering her next words. "I think she's in trouble."

His head snapped up. "Cara?" He ignored how it made his brain feel like it was rattling in his skull.

The girl nodded. "How- How do you know-?"

"Because you're looking at her," she said, and he blinked, and he knew time had passed because it was raining even harder now, and he was looking right at her, at Cara. Cara was leaning against the wall, and Cara had a gun pointed at her head, and Cara was laughing, almost like it was funny, but he knew her, and knew her laugh, her real laugh, and she was hurting, she was in pain. Cara wasn't doing anything, and he could see, even from the considerable distance that she wasn't doing anything, and that she was going to die. Their finger, the shooters fingers, slowly tightened on the trigger, and it felt like his heart stopped.

He felt something snap in his head, like his thoughts were nothing but twigs, and then there was just this horrible feeling of nothing spreading through his mind, as everything felt like it was burning away, leaving him nothing but ashes...

* * *

"Bucky?" she said. It was definitely him. He was beating the mugger, punching him repeatedly in the face. If he kept that up, he'd kill him. She tentatively stepped forward. Her fingers extended, she gently put her hand on his shoulder. He barely responded, hitting the man harder.

"Bucky," she said. When he didn't answer her, she tried to turn him around. "Bucky. Stop. Listen to me, Stop. It's over, stop. Stop. Bucky. STOP."

He looked up at her sharply, and what she saw made her stomach. He was covered in blood, and she couldn't tell if any of it was his. And he didn't recognize her. There was a violent look of pain etched on his fingers. his stare edged with hatred, and a cold rage. He didn't look like Bucky. His metal hand still raised, the red standing out starkly against the silver. When he made no move against her, she gently took his face in her hands, running her thumbs over his cheeks, feeling the heat radiate off his skin despite the cold of the rain. He stared up at her, some of the fury dying from from his eyes. His fist fell to his side, fingers unclenching slowly.

"Oh, James... What happened to you?"

He simply looked up at her.

"Is any of this yours?" She murmured, pulling at his shirt. Red came off onto her fingertips. "Are you hurt?"

"Who are you?" He said, somewhere between a snarl and a whisper. It felt like she had been hit. She let herself close her eyes for one second. Just one second, before she jumped back into action. Her breakdown had to wait until she got them out of this.

"It's me. It's Cara. You know who I am."

_I don't want to lose him. Please, please, please. I can't lose him. _

_Remember me. I'll do anything, I don't care._

_I can't lose you, not like this. You have to remember me. _

"I don't. I don't know you. I don't know you!"

"Remember me, please. I know you know me. I know you can remember!"

He glared up at her, and he hated her in that moment. She saw it in his eyes. It made her heart beat harder. It hurt.

"Do you know your name?"

"I... I. Shut up. Shut up!" He tried to pull back, away from her. She grabbed his shoulders, holding him tighter.

"No. Tell me your name. You know your name. And you know mine."

"I don't know!"

"Listen to me. My name is Cara. You live with me. You just saved my life, and I would die in a heartbeat for you. I... I need you to remember who I am. Please."

He looked behind her, like he was seeing something, and when he spoke again, he wasn't speaking to her.

"Girl... Girl, why are you still here?" He tilted his head, as if listening to a reply. "Bucky...? That's it? That's who I am?"

"Yes," she said. "James. Bucky. Bucky, you're Bucky Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes."

He looked at her as if he had just realized she was there. "You're Cara. Cara Fox. My Fox." He lifted a hand, grabbing onto her wrist.

"Hey. Hey, 're burning up. We need to get home."

"Where am I?"

"We're in an alley. You saved me."

"Everything's hurting."

"I know, my love. I know. Give me a second, then we'll go home okay?"

He nodded, shoulders slumped, still on his knees. He began to shake, as he forward, resting his head on her stomach. Her hand landed on the back of his head, holding him closer to her. It looked like her timebomb had finally gone off.

But she hadn't lost him. Not yet.

She glanced at the mugger, who lay unconscious. Broken nose, face covered in cuts, missing teeth, probably a skull fracture. But still breathing. He was very, very lucky. Slowly, she reached for her phone with her free hand, dialing the number.

"911," the operator said.

"There's a man unconscious in an alley, send an ambulance," she said, before giving the street name, and hanging up before they could ask her name. She turned her attention back to Bucky. He had shut his eyes, still clinging to her. "Come on. Let's go home."

She helped him stand stand up slowly, his eyes on the ground. He still held onto her, was still shaking, skin still burning beneath her fingers. She hadn't seen him lose it like this in all the time she had been with him, save for his nightmares, he had never looked this bad. Carefully, she put her arm around his waist, and he leaned into her, breathing heavily. He looked up at the street in front of them, eyes darting around as he scanned for anything that may come at them. after a few minutes, he stumbled, falling to his knees.

She knelt in front of him."Are you okay?" She said quietly, gently, tipping his head up to look at her. His pupils were dilated.

"He wanted to hurt you," he said hoarsely. "I didn't want him to hurt you."

"Bucky, I need you to tell me if you are okay," she said, trying to get him to focus.

"He wanted to shoot you. And you were going to let him."

"I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking, but it doesn't matter now." she said, murmuring the last words, as she pressed her forehead against his. "We need to get you home."

She felt him sliding his hand up her back, tangling in her hair. "I'll never let them hurt you. I'll never let any of them hurt you, I promise."

"You don't have to promise me that. Promise me you'll be okay. Promise."

"I'm tired, Cara. I don't remember what happened."

She pulled him up, keeping his arm draped around her shoulder, shaking slightly under his weight. "We need to get up. Come on, with me. I'll help you. We need to go home."

They took a few clumsy steps forward, before he spoke again. "Girl. You still there, girl?"

"What was that Bucky?"

"She's still here."

"Who?"

"The girl. The baby I had to protect. "

_Great. He's hallucinating, _she thought darkly._ This really is not looking good. _

Instead of saying that, she simply said, "Oh."

"You think I'm crazy."

"No."

"It's okay. I'm starting to think so too."

"You're not crazy. You're not."

"She is there. She's real. She's just... In my head."

"But who can claim that their reality is truly true, and that they aren't the one's imagining life?" It felt like a quote.

She watched Bucky smile out of the corner of her eye. "You just made that up."

"Probably. Philosophy calms me down."

He rested his hand on hers. "You're scared, aren't you?"

She hesitated. "Yes. Terrified." _Of everything. _

"Me too."

She didn't answer. She was strong, but Bucky was heavier than the average human, and right now he could barely stay on his feet. Each step took, and the longer they were out here, he seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. It made her nervous. She wasn't sure that if they were attacked now that he would be able to defend himself, or that she would be able to defend him and her. She wasn't alone now. She wasn't just going to get shot because she was panicking. She had Bucky to think about.

She had to think about Bucky.

What felt like hours later, she finally reached the elevator to the apartment. She let Bucky lean against the wall, while she pushed the button. He was watching her dully, and as she turned back to him, he looked away quickly. It seemed to knock his center of balance off, and she had to dive to catch him before he collapsed on the floor. He remained slumped in her arms, and gave her a slightly delirious smile.

"Sweeping me off my feet."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, my god, I don't know what that was, but you might be dying."

He laughed, burying his head in her shoulder. "It's called talking to a beautiful dame."

"You really are sick, aren't you?"

He made a noise. "No."

The doors slid open, and it took all her strength to practically drag him to the door, and then to his room, setting him gently on the bed. Before he lay down, she gently pulled off his blood soaked shirt.

"Come on, I need to see if you're hurt."

"I don't think I am."

"I still need to check."

She found no cuts on him that she could see, only very slight and as she ran her fingers on his ribs, she didn't think that there was anything broken. He was staring at her, pupils still dilated, despite the dark of his room.

"Bucky, have been sensitive to light?"

He nodded.

"Alright. And you can't remember anything?"

"Little bits."

"And the girl. How long have you been seeing her?"

"Today."

"Okay... Okay, Bucky," she said, gently pushing him so that he was lying.

"You lie down. I'll be right back."

As she turned to walk away, he caught her hand. "We should go dancing."

"Where would we go dancing?"

"Here. Anywhere."

"Alright. You get better, and I'll take you dancing."

He smiled, shutting his eyes, and he looked peaceful. She found herself staring at him, watching him, for a moment, wishing that he didn't have to be sick to look at peace.

She walked out to the bathroom, getting a rag and soaking it in water, pausing to rest her hands on the counter and shut her eyes. He was going to be okay. She knew where to get help. He was just sick, and he would get better. He had to get better. She glanced at herself in the mirror, and she looked like a few steps from hell. Soaking wet, smeared makeup, worry evident on her face.

She stepped back, pulling her phone out, dialing who she desperately hoped would help them, knowing her number was blocked.

"Dr. Ellis? This is Agent Fletcher. You owe me a favor, and I'm cashing it in. Yes. I know. It's my friend. Please, he's sick. He's hallucinating, has a fever, shaking, and I can't take him to a hospital. If you don't help me, I swear, I will blow my cover, and go to Stark Tower and Bruce Banner himself. I will do anything to save him. Yes. Yes. I'll send you my location. Thank you. Thank you so much."

She hung up, picking up the cloth, and going back to his bedside. He was lying there, motionless, his eyes occasionally flickering open. Grabbing a chair, she sat down beside him, and began to clean the blood off his hands. It wasn't his. There was no way it was his, and as much as that made her uneasy, about what had happened before he had found her, she also felt so relieved it hurt. He turned his head slightly towards her, and smiled that same delirious smile.

"Cara Fox." He murmured her name like he had forgotten she was there, like she was some pleasant surprise who had appeared from nowhere.

"Bucky Barnes," she replied, trying to get the blood out of the cracks in the metal, not looking up at him.

_Bucky Barnes._

_I'm not leaving you. _

_You're going to be okay. _

As she reached over to grab his other hand, she paused, and did something stupid, getting over whatever delusions she'd been under, admitting to herself, to him, to the whole damn world, that she was well and truly fucked. She kissed his cheek, so light he barely stirred beneath her, before gently whispering in his ear, with grim certainty.

"James Buchanan Barnes. I'm not losing you. If anyone tries to hurt you, I'll kill them. I'll break any law to keep you safe, fight any enemy, lie any lie. You're going to have to be the better of us, my love. Because I'm swearing this now, and let the night be my witness. I will not lose you. We're in this together. I will not lose you."

**A/N: **I'm not gonna lie, this chapter is really confusing (to write at least, I don't know if it was that bad to read). The style literally feels like an episode of the Walking Dead. A lot of it is hallucination and time skips, because Bucky's brain is messed up. More on that next chapter.

I listened to a lot of Black Keys writing it. A lot.

Thank you for your reviews last time, and for reading this! I had some extra time to write this, so I decided to go ahead and post it. Hope it didn't disappoint!


	19. In My End, You Were My Beginning

**A/N:** Song for this chapter "Glass Heart Hymn" by Paper Route.

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

The man lay trembling in front of the static filled television screen.

The voice was like a thousand voices combining, distorting itself. It's pitch rose and fell, becoming louder and softer.

He felt himself whisper, "Yes."

_Have you failed?_

"N-no. She ran off. It wasn't my fault."

_Did you not think to follow her?_

"She was on edge. She suspected something already. We still have the element of surprise."

_Do not forget your task. _

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

He extended a hand, pressing it flat against the screen.

_You are going to retrieve the Asset._

_You are going to do whatever it takes. _

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

He nodded slowly.

_Our sources claim that he is with their target, providing mutual protection. Remove her from the picture, but do not damage either of them too badly. She is not to be underestimated. You know their customs. They will make no move on her. They are waiting for us to take her, and him. You will collect them both, and they will be sent to us. Use their weaknesses, their loyalty to each other, their fear, their love. Use their weakness against them. _

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

_We know you do. _

_I know you do. _

_Do you know what we do to people who fail us?_

_Do not fail us. _

He shuddered, standing up. He had work to do. The static filled screen of the television shut off abruptly, on it's own, leaving behind only a voice echoing around the small room.

_Do you know what happens to people who fail us?_

* * *

_Cara sat on the table of the exam room, swinging her legs back at forth. Phil Coulson had taken her out of the Gray Building that she been in for a long time. Then Melinda May brought her onto the plane, and had left. Her eyes darted to the scary looking tools on the wall, in the cabinet, the paper crinkling underneath her. Standing up, she dropped to the ground, moving to the wall behind the door, and turning off the light._

_Phil Coulson and Melinda May hadn't seemed like bad guys. But bad guys pretended to be good guys a lot. Bad guys lied. And pretended. She had to figure out which was which._

_The door opened, and she shrank back farther, moving closer to the door. Two people walked in. She didn't stay long enough to see their confused faces, as she slipped away, running out the door._

_"May said she was in here!"_

_"How do you lose a child?"_

_"That was the room!"_

_She glanced back, and in that moment of distraction, stumbled over her own feet and tripped, flying forward._

_"Woah, there!" Someone said, as they caught her. She looked up, seeing an older man, dark hair turning gray, smiling down kindly."Where are you off to?"_

_She stared at him, not answering._

_"You're Cara, right? They just brought you in?"_

_She nodded slowly."Why were you running?"_

_She shrugged. "I dunno."_

_"Well. I'm Dr. Ellis. Nice to meet you."_

_She pulled back, glancing around."You trying to escape?"_

_"No."_

_"You know. I tried to escape too, you know, when they first brought me in. Now look at me. Been working for them for about twenty years."_

_She gave him a critical look, in only the way seven year old can._

_"No. They're good guys. I promise," he said, laughing. She stared at him judgmentally, but didn't seem like she was going to run away again._

_"Well then, Cara. Let's say we get those needles out."_

_She looked thoughtful, glancing back down the hall, then back up at him, before nodding._

_"Okay."_

* * *

_She sat on the table again, while Dr. Ellis, and a funny nurse who kept making jokes, (and who seemed very impressed that she had tricked two agents) distracting her as Dr. Ellis pulled out the needles in her arms and neck. It hurt a little bit._

_"How did you get that mark on your face, Cara?" Dr. Ellis asked suddenly. She suddenly turned her attention to the ground, looking slightly bashful._

_"One of the people tried to take me away again, so I bit them. Then I got hit."Dr. Ellis exchanged a look with the nurse._

_"You okay?" She nodded. Picking up a clipboard, he looked at her name, only four letters._

_"Cara. Hmm. Bit short. Do you want a longer name?"_

_"Like. two names? Like Phil Coulson and Melinda May?"_

_"Some people even have three."_

_She thought about it, before stating with absolute certainty. "I want three names."_

_"Which names do you like?"_

_She looked at the nurse, who smiled back. "What's your name?"_

_"Allison Fletcher."_

_"I like Fletcher."_

_"Cara Fletcher. What about your middle name?"_

_She shrugged. "I dunno. What do you think?"_

_He thought about it, eyes becoming slightly distant. "Calista," he said after a moment._

_Cara nodded._

_The nurse gave her a wink, writing the the name down. "Cara Calista Fletcher. That's a bit of a mouthful. You'll certainly be remembered, Cali."_

_Cara smiled. For the first time since her rescue, she smiled, speaking softly. "Good."_

* * *

Cara jerked awake at the sound of the knock at the door. She had been dreaming, still sitting at Bucky's bedside. She had been dreaming about what she didn't often think about. What she couldn't often think about. She stood up quickly, checking the time (5:51 in the morning). Bucky was murmuring next to her, but he was unconscious. She paused to watch him for a moment, pulling the thin, sweat soaked sheet up to his chest, before gently pushing his hair back from his face. He still had a fever.

"Help's here, Bucky," she said, as she stepped away. She opened the door harder than she meant to, revealing a slightly surprised looking elderly man, with a full white beard and kindly eyes.

"Well, you look absolutely terrible," he said, stating it as purely as an observation.

She gave him an equally critical look. "And you look like Santa Claus."

"I'm retired. I can look however I damn well please."

There was a pause, before she gave a short laugh, letting him in. He carried a medical bag, limping slightly from what she knew was an old injury from when he worked in the field. "It's been a long time, Cali."

She winced at the nickname. "It wasn't since... it's been two years now, hasn't it?"

He nodded, pausing. "You hanging in there?"

"Yes," she said shortly.

He nodded, not looking convinced, although he switched topics.

"I am serious though. You look terrible. You positive you're not the one who's sick? Have you been sleeping?"

She gave him a pained smile. "He looks even worse."

"Oh, dear."

Shutting the door behind him, she took a deep breath, leading the older man down the hall. "I need you to promise you won't tell anyone about this. He needs to stay a secret. I do too, really. Don't tell him who I am. Who I was."

"I have spent my life taking care of broken spies. I can a keep a few secrets."

"Thank you. And he's... He's a little unstable. Let me talk to him before you do anything."

"Who exactly are you friends with?"

Cara didn't answer, slowly opening the door to his room.

"Bucky," she called out gently, walking to sit by his side, and slipping her hand into his metal one. He opened his eyes, and stared up at her vacantly. "Bucky. this is Dr. Ellis. He's here to help."

Ellis put his stuff down by the bed, pulling out a stethoscope. "Hello, Bucky. Cara was right. You look like hell."

Bucky didn't seem to hear him, although he flinched when Dr. Ellis placed the cold metal on his chest, listening his heart.

"How long has he been like this?"

"This? About six hours. But he was complaining of a headache for a few days, and last night he started hallucinating. He has a fever, he's shaking, he just hasn't been... Right."

"The shaking. Like he's cold, or just in general?"

"In general, I think."

"Fever, delirium, headache, tremors... Has he been seizing?"

"No."

"Hmmm," Ellis said. "Has his neck been stiff?"

Cara shook her head. "Not that I've noticed."

"Good chance it isn't meningitis then. I should do a lumbar puncture anyways..."

"He isn't going to like that."

"I need to be sure. My first hunch is encephalitis. But it's rare. We can check that with the puncture too. If it is, I might be able to narrow it down now. Any exposure to wild animals, known toxins, ticks, mosquitos?"

"I... I don't think so. Maybe. He was walking. From DC to here. I don't know about before that. I don't know a lot about him. About his... Missions. Before we got out. He doesn't know a lot either. Probably less than me."

"He was a spy? Worked for SHIELD?"

He was looking at her, and she had the feeling that he knew exactly who Bucky was.

"In a way," she said quietly.

"Has he been taking any new medications?"

"No. Not for the past few weeks at least."

"Has he been sexually active?"

"I don't think so."

"Where did he get the arm?"

Cara looked up at him. "I don't know."

"Do you know when?"

"No... Is it important?"

Ellis shrugged. "It might be."

"Fox... Cara?" Bucky said drowsily, cutting off the conversation, and any reply she might have had. She looked back down at his face, and saw a small trickle of blood dripping from his nose as he tried to sit up. "What's happening?"

"Shit, Bucky, lie back down" she said. looking back at Ellis. He reached in his bag, pulling out a rag, and handing it to her. She tried to clean it up, but he began to struggle more. "Where am I? What's happening?"

"Bucky, stop. You're with me. You're safe. Hold still. You're sick."

His arm lashed out suddenly, hitting her hard in the chest, knocking her to the ground with a crash. She gasped, coughing as she tried to catch her breath. He had a hell of hit.

"Cali!" Ellis said, moving towards her. She held up a hand, standing up painfully, wheezing slightly, and moving back to Bucky's side, taking his hand as he stared at her in confusion and horror.

"I'm okay. He didn't mean it. I'm okay."

"...Cara? Why were you on... Did I...?"

"Shush, baby," she said, looking back at Ellis. "Can you do the puncture now?"

"No. I need to get some things. For other tests too. I'll be back in a few hours. Give him acetaminophen. I take it he hasn't eaten anything in a few hours, so keep him away from ibuprofen. Keep him in bed, make sure he sleeps, and try to make sure he drinks. Keep him hydrated, or this could go from bad to worse. Also, I need to know his medical history. His birthday. Everything. Try to dig that up for me. It shouldn't be too hard anymore."

Cara nodded, staring down at Bucky, who had shut his eyes. She extended a hand, touching his forehead, feeling the heat race beneath his skin.

"Call me if anything changes. I'll see myself out. Keep an eye on him."

Cara nodded again, glancing at the man who had helped her choose a name. "Thank you."

"I don't think you've ever look at anyone like that...You look like you could be happy. No. You've been happy look like you would try to be happy."

She felt her gaze drop. "I don't even know what that means anymore."

Ellis laughed as he left the room. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Cali. No one knows what that means. We're all just making it up as we go."

Cara listened as he limped away.

Her hand tightened slightly on Bucky's.

His eyes flickered open, meeting hers.

She smiled.

* * *

Cara stared at Bucky, now completely unconscious, lying too still, still holding onto his hand. She looked down at it, gently moving her thumb in circles. His fever had gone down slightly, thanks to the Tylenol she managed to track down in the cabinets (and after making him take it. Unpleasant names were said on both sides, in multiple languages. Bribery was involved). Her eyes drifted down to the stack of papers by her feet, landing on the picture on top. She had found the records Ellis wanted, printing them out, and taking care not to leave any trace of her searching for them. He had been taken out of cryo for a few weeks at a time, mostly for training, and shorter missions. Occasionally, he had run long ones, but he was always back in the ice after they were done. And he had been everywhere. Russia. England. Brazil. Cuba. Obscure places in the deserts of America.

There was never any record of him falling ill while on a mission, but then again, she didn't know what she was looking for. Ellis would.

The picture was of the Winter Soldier. The man in front of her looked exactly like him in that moment. Asleep.

He murmured something again, fingers twitching.

"You know... I haven't worried this much since my partner was in the hospital. The moron went out and got himself shot when we weren't even on a mission. I thought he was going to die... He didn't... Still gave me a gave me a heart attack."

She glanced back up at his face. He was still out. She kept talking.

"His name was Reynard. Sybil always called him Reynie, but he always liked these pretentious, over the top nicknames. Aim was his favorite. Short for Amatus. I called him that maybe three times. Didn't want him to think he was too important, or anything. when he was lying in the hospital bed, like you are now, and when... When he... Nevermind. He's gone now. I guess it doesn't matter. I think you would have liked him. He would have liked you. Always giving everyone a second chance, even when he shouldn't have. We both had a soft spot for broken things, I guess."

She extended her other hand, brushing back the strands of hair from his face. He didn't react. "You would have belonged with us. You would have belonged with me. You... You do belong with me."

He stirred slightly, murmuring something, but not waking up.

"If I told you any of this, when you're awake, you'd leave me. I didn't think this would happen. I remember seeing you, after the ships fell, and Natasha had told me who you were. But you, you didn't look like the Winter Soldier I had expected. The one who would shoot his friend. The ruthless killer. You didn't look like a monster. You looked... Human. You saved Steve. I didn't want you to lose that part of yourself. I guess I'm like Reynard too. And maybe I was reckless, and selfish, but we're here, together, and neither of us are alone, so maybe it was for the best. Maybe... Maybe, everything was worth it."

She laughed quietly. "That sounds like a bad thing. People died. A lot of people. People who didn't deserve it. People who should have lived. But you. You got out. And that's good. And I found you, and I think that's also good."

She paused, before she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his chest. Resting her head over his heart, praying that there wouldn't be a day when she did this, and she heard no sound. She shut her eyes. "I've made mistakes. I'm confused, scared. I'm a liar, and... And a killer. I hope you can forgive me. I am not a good guy. But I'd try. I'd try to be, for you."

Something trickled down her face. Was she crying? She never cried. "Please, please get better. Please come back to me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for everything. But, I'm here now. I'm here. Please, I... I lo... I need you to be okay."

The tears were really coming now. All of this was too much. She hadn't slept, barely ate, and now she was thinking about things she shouldn't be thinking about. And it was too much. She shuddered against him, feeling his heart beat, and remembering that he was alive. He was alive, and she hadn't lost him yet.

Something touched the back of her head, gently stroking her hair. She looked up, and Bucky was staring at her.

"Why are you crying, doll?" He murmured sleepily. She gave him a small smile, putting her head back down on his chest, watching him.

"Just worried about you."

"Don't worry... Don't cry."

She gave a sort of strangled laugh. "I'll try."

He kept running his fingers through her hair. "You look tired."

"So do you."

"Have you slept?"

"A little."

"You need to sleep."

"I'm okay, really."

He suddenly looked very stubborn. It almost made her laugh. It definitely made her thankful for his moment of lucidness.

"I'll stay awake with you then."

"Bucky..." She said, sitting up. "The sooner you get better, the sooner I'll sleep."

"The sooner you sleep, the sooner I'll get better."

She sat back down in the chair, leaning her head back, giving a small laugh, and putting her feet up on his bed. "Touche."

He looked behind her sharply.

"You shouldn't be here."

She turned around, seeing nothing. "What?"

"I see- I saw... Nevermind."

"No, Bucky, what did you see?"

"There's some people."

"Do you know who they are?"

"A woman... Brown hair, old cloths. She looks familiar. But different from the others. And Steve. A bunch of men. I saw them at the exhibit. And Steve's dame. And the girl. The girl is with them."

"They saying anything?"

He tilted his head, and his eyes widened, and he reeled back, raising his arms as if to ward off an attack. Cara jumped to her feet, kneeling next to him on the bed. "It wasn't my fault! That wasn't me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Bucky, don't listen to them. Don't worry about them. Look at me, listen to me. I'm here."

"Tell them I'm so sorry. I'm sorry! Tell them to leave me alone. Leave me alone!"

"You're sorry. That's all that matters. I forgive you. It wasn't your fault."

He shut his eyes, reaching up and digging his fingers into his scalp. "My head hurts. My head hurts, and they won't stop talking."

"Just sleep. Sleep. I'll be right here. Sleep."

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Cara."

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, like he was panicking.

It made her panic too, a little. She kept it hidden. "You're going to have to."

"How?"

"With me. Together."

He looked up at her. "Together."

"You and me. We'll go dancing, like you said. As soon as you're up and about."

He seemed to calm slightly, hands falling from his head. "I'd like that."

She smiled, crossing her legs.

"Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

"You too?"

"Soon."

He look past her for a moment.

"And you lot. Shut up. Some of us are trying to sleep here."She turned around, looking at the emptiness in the room.

"Yeah. We don't need ghosts here. Shut up, or go away."

Bucky began to laugh, shutting his eyes beside her, and leaning his head back, looking nearly relaxed. She caught a sight of something she hadn't seen before. Something that once was. The people in Bucky's mind weren't the only ghosts with them tonight.

"Listen to the lady."

"Did they?"

"Hmm?"

"Did they listen?"

"No. But it was worth a shot."

She leaned down, kissing his forehead, listening as his breath caught slightly.

"Come on. Go to sleep. I'll be right here."

**A/N:** This was one crazy emotional roller coaster.

Disclaimer, I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to the medical stuff. I just finished one year of high school pre-med, and did one case study on the illness Bucky has. I stressed about getting it right for weeks, and then realized that this is a universe were gamma rays turn people green because of anger, and people have robot arms and flying cars. I'm slightly less stressed. It's somewhat accurate. And I'm just a sleepy high school student who doesn't know what they're doing, so yeah. Dr. Ellis (who is literally just Hershel Greene with a medical degree and a SHIELD badge, because I'm having some heavy post-fifth season Walking Dead emotions) will just never explain anything.

Thank you for reading/reviewing! (And dear Guest who reviewed, I love your questions,and can only laugh in answer. Hope this one doesn't disappoint either.)


	20. Three Options

**A/N:** Song for this chapter is _Fever _by the Black Keys, because I have a _sick _sense of humor. (and a terrible one, apparently)

**Warnings:** Also, this chapter has some vague medical stuff with needles (spinal taps , and IV's and blood draws). If that triggers you, or if you just don't like reading about it, turn away for the entire Cara POV portion of this chapter, and ask me to tell you. Just a heads up.

_It was very bright. _

_He wasn't quite sure where he was. _

_Cara was sitting next to him as he lay in bed, just as bright as the rest of the room, shining like a star. _

_She extended a hand, gently running her thumb over his cheek. Her fingers were cold on his skin. He caught her hand._

_"Cara."_

_"Hey, James," she whispered._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_"You're screaming again," she said. "You don't need to be afraid."_

_"This is a dream."_

_"Yeah."_

_"This isn't real."_

_"That's debatable."_

_"I should wake up."_

_"If you want to."_

_"I don't. It's better here."_

_She smiled. "You don't need to be afraid."_

_"What if they come for me? What if you get hurt?"_

_"You are the Winter Soldier. You can keep one person safe."_

_"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," he murmured._

_She laughed._

_He frowned. "What's so funny?"_

_"You're trying to be romantic."_

_"Oh. Am I that bad at it?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You know, I didn't used to be."_

_"I know, James."_

_"I didn't used to be... This."_

_"I know."_

_"Would you have loved me then? If you had met me when I was all Bucky, not whatever I am now, would you have loved me?"_

"_I don't know," she said quietly. _

_"__I would have thought you were beautiful then too."_

_She gave another laugh. "You'd never say this aloud."_

_"But I think it."_

_"What else do you think about?"_

_"That I'm afraid of falling."_

_"And?"_

_"I think I'm falling for you."_

_She laughed again. "James Barnes, all the more reason to keep me alive."_

_"Cara, I'm scared. I'm so scared. What if I can't keep them away? Please. I can't lose you. And I can't go back to what I was. I can't be theirs again. I can't. I can't."_

_"Shh. I'm here." She pushed his hair from his face._

_"I can't go back to what I was. I don't want to lose myself again. I can't lose myself again."_

_"I'm here. You sleep. I'm here."_

_He shut his eyes, her ghostly presence never moving from his side._

_He could hear her, and maybe it wasn't Cara, maybe the dream had chose her voice specifically for him, but she was there, everywhere, nowhere, whispering._

_"You know, there are always three options when you dream about the fall. Sometimes, you wake up. Sometimes, the fall kills you, breaks you. But there is a third alternative. Isn't there always a third alternative? Sometimes, you fly. Which one are you going to choose, James? Because you are going to have to choose. We all have to choose." _

_It was the first dream in a long time that did not completely ruin him._

_He had had enough of those._

* * *

Cara had lied to Bucky.

Cara didn't sleep at all.

She did a routine security check (several times. It wasn't like she was paranoid. But she did not want an unpleasant surprise when Bucky could barely move). She read through his files (although she never made it very far into his missions, or exactly how they wiped his memory. It made her feel sick, and angry. Very angry). She tried to convince him to drink something, but that always ended with one of them pissed off (dear God, he was stubborn. Was he like this before? It almost made her laugh to imagine a young Bucky stubbornly refusing to do anything). She didn't even try to get him to eat anything.

Sometimes he would wake up. Sometimes, when he did, he would talk to her. Tell her that he thought that the war wouldn't last long, that they'd be out in a few months, and that it was fine he was enlisting, he'd be back home with her in less than a year. Once, he started talking to her about his family, about his mom and dad, and how his dad was in the army, and been off training when he had been born. He told her about his sister, Rebecca, and how she had found a stupid cat and named it after him. He told her about his mom, and how she had been so worried when he came home telling her he was shipping out.

Cara would listen, smiling and nodding, not showing how much she felt like her heart was breaking with every word. Not showing how she wondered if it would be better if he forgot all of this when he truly woke up. The way he talked about them. It would kill him to know that that they were all long gone. This was what he was like before his fall. This is what they took from him.

It hurt.

Ellis didn't come back until late that night. When she opened the door, looking out cautiously, her stomach dropped. He looked rather exhausted already, and he wasn't alone.

"I thought you promised not to tell anyone," she hissed at him.

"This is Claire Temple. She's a nurse, and I need her help."

Cara suddenly felt years younger, glaring at him like she always did when she was a child. "But you promised-" "

Cara, you can yell at me later," he said, cutting her off. "But I am here to work. And I need Claire's help. If you forgot, it's been several years since I've actually done clinic work, and I'm out of practice."

Cara glanced at the nurse still wearing scrubs, holding a bag on her shoulder. The woman crossed her arms, staring her down bravely, and Cara felt some sort of grudging respect forming already. Faintly, she hoped that her judgement of people was not so far gone that she was placing Bucky's life in the hands of someone who would betray them.

"Can I trust you?"

"I could say the same thing," Temple said. "Why aren't you going to a hospital?"

"Bad things would happen," she said, not feeling in the mood to explain that Bucky would probably make a scene (not by any fault of his own), and that would probably end with someone, probably her and Bucky, getting shot.

Temple sighed. "I find an old man breaking into the hospital to steal medical equipment, and suddenly I'm helping him save the life of a someone refusing to go to the hospital. What have I gotten myself into?"

Cara didn't answer, glancing briefly at Ellis, who nodded slowly, before she spun around, leaving the door wide open for them, walking back to Bucky's room.

She heard Ellis whisper to Claire, as they followed her, "Don't worry. These are good people."

Bucky was still asleep.

"The files you wanted are there," Cara said, waving at the pile paper beside the bed, as she sat down beside Bucky. He opened his eyes, the motion of the bed sinking slightly waking him. He looked up at her.

"I've read through some of them. The arm was replaced in 2012. It was an extensive surgery. He's been in and out of cryo for the past fifty years or so, and there has only been one other recorded incident of him getting sick, in '74. It was nothing like this. There is no connection."

"Huh," Ellis said, looking thoughtful. He picked up a file and looked through it. "Hello, James. 97 years old. Impressive. You're looking good for your age."

"97?" Temple asked, flipping through another one, and looking between it and Bucky. "Shit. He's been through hell."

"Understatement," Cara murmured. Bucky was still staring up at her, oblivious to the conversation next to him. She knew he wouldn't remember this, or would convince himself that it was a dream.

Ellis nodded again. "We're going to do the tap now. Draw blood after that. See where we are. I'll look through the tests when I get home, and call you later."

"Have you put him on anything?" Temple said.

"Your basic anti-inflammatory medication, nothing fancy," Ellis said.

She looked at Cara. "Has he been taking those okay?"

"Define 'okay'," Cara said dryly.

"Help me sit him up," Ellis said, as Temple moved on one side. Cara moved so that she sat in front of him, pulling him up, holding him steady as he swayed. She turned him so that his back was to Ellis and Temple, turning herself so that she still faced him.

"James. Are you paying attention to me?"

He gave her a confused look. "What's happening?"

"They need to check some fluid in your spine. They're going to put in a needle, and it's going to hurt, but I'm right here. Promise me you won't hurt them. Or me." She slid her hands into his arms, firmly keeping him from being able to lash out, nodding at Ellis to hurry up.

"I don't know what's happening."

"Listen. Listen to my voice."

His head sunk into her shoulder, holding onto her tightly.

Ellis looked up speaking slowly. "I'm going to count to three, and you're going to feel something sharp. Alright? Ready? One. Two. Three." He began to push the anesthetic needle into his back. Bucky fingers tightened on her hips, before moving to her shoulder blades. His eyes were tightly shut.

"You're doing great," Cara said. He snarled something (something along the lines _shut up, your don't have a goddamn needle in your spine, don't you patronize me_). Ellis pulled the needle out, as Temple handed him the bigger one, the real one.

"Right. You're going to feel some pressure now, Mr. Barnes," Ellis said. "Get comfortable. This isn't going to be pleasant."

Bucky groaned. Cara let her eyes drift to where Ellis was inserting the needle. She had to look away quickly. Bucky's arm creaked as he tensed, and for a second, she was afraid he'd lash out. When he didn't, after a moment of consideration, Cara let go of it reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He responded by lifting his head up to stare at her. She gave him a small smile, resting her forehead on his.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," he said back.

"You're looking slightly better, you know."

"That's good."

"You still seeing your ghosts?"

"I don't know. Girl's there, on the end of the bed. She's laughing at you. I hear Steve. Is Steve here?"

"No.""Good. He'd punch me if he knew I pushed you."

"Nah. He probably laugh. He'd think it's funny we know each other."

He looked at her. "Do you know him?"

Wait. Shit, no. Backtrack.

"I... I know of him. From what you've said."

"No. You know him."

She looked sharply back up Ellis, who gave her a brief glance.

Before she couldn't anything, she heard him murmur, shutting his eyes. "Tell him this was so much worse than Coney Island."

She blinked, giving a small laugh. "Okay."

He was silent for a long time. She almost thought he fell asleep, if not for his occasional movements, his fingers twitching on her side, his unsteady breathing.

"Fox?" He said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"We still on for dancing?"

"Yeah. Whatever you want," she said, glaring at a smirking Ellis.

"Good."

"When did these plans happen, Cali?" Ellis said. "I seemed to recall you hating dancing."

"Shut up," she said. "I wouldn't mind dancing, if it's with Bucky." She felt his hands tighten on her again.

"The right partner," he said to himself, distantly. He was quoting someone. He was remembering something again.

Cara smiled him. "Something like that."

Ellis chose that moment to have a violent coughing fit that didn't quite hide his laughter. Temple simply shook her head, although there was a small smile on her face as well.

"There," Ellis said, as the needle gave slightly. "Almost done."

"Hey," she whispered into Bucky's ear. "You're okay. It wasn't that bad."

He gave her a dark look. "Cara Fox, you don't know what you're talking about."

She laughed. "No, I do, and you're overreacting. It really isn't that bad."

"You've had one?" He said in surprise.

"A few."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be," she said. He leaned on her shoulder again.

"We're done," Ellis said. "He can lie down now. I have a few more tests."

Bucky collapsed to the side almost immediately, taking Cara down with him. Ellis had another suspiciously mirthful coughing fit. She sat up, glaring at him again, as he pulled out a small instrument, one that looked like a scanner. As he held it above Bucky's head, it made a beeping noise, and he looked down at the screen in concern, shaking his head.

"What's that?" Cara said, moving Bucky's arm so that she could sit up. He turned onto his back, closing his eyes again.

"Portable CAT scan. I may have bribed one of SHIELD's bright young science officers to obtain it. The two brightest, actually."

"But SHIELD's go-"

"Destroyed, yes. At least, the old one. You of all people should know that things can be reborn from the ashes." He gave Bucky a pointed look. Cara felt her hand land on his metal arm protectively, despite the fact that she knew Ellis had read the files, and knew who he was.

"Anyways," Ellis continued. "Your friend here seems to have some swelling in his brain. Encephalitis, like I thought. The puncture was to see what's causing it, so we can treat it. Claire here smuggled me some antiviral meds we'll start him on some just to be safe. But there was also some unusual neural pathways. Very simply, his mind was rewritten. And he's reforming all those old connections, while maintaining the new ones. I don't envy him."

Cara ran her fingers through Bucky's hair. "What do I do?"

"He's going to have to deal with his mind on his own. It's not causing his symptoms. It's simply something that needs to happen, and not something any of us can help with. That's his own battle. As for his physical illness, we'll start treating him now for the encephalitis. Keep him on acetaminophen. He's drinking, right?"

"Yes. But he's been fighting me on it."

"Eating?"

"No."

"If his serum is anywhere close to what they used on Rogers, it increased his metabolism and appetite. He needs to eat," Ellis said. He looked at Claire. "You feel in the mood to draw some blood and start an IV?"

"I have nothing better to do," Temple said, already pulling on some gloves, and reaching into her bag for the needles. She glanced down at the arm closest to her. "But I don't think it's going to work on metal, and I really don't want him to tear the IV out."

The bed was against wall, no place for an IV pole on the other side. The tube would have to cross his body, and would be way easier for him to "tear out" if he thrashed because of a nightmare.

"It'll be okay," Cara said. "I'll watch him. He'll be fine."

"Cara, at some point, you are going to have to get some rest," Ellis said. "You can't watch him forever."

"I slept this morning, I'll be fine."

He gave her a doubtful look. "Sure. Okay. Give him this," Ellis said, wisely dropping the, pulling out two clear, plastic, orange bottles and handing her one. "Low grade sedatives might work to keep him tired." He handed her the other. "These are the antiviral pills. One every six hours."

She nodded. "Claire, we'll draw blood, get IV set up, and then we'll leave."

Claire nodded, and she took his nonmetal hand, turning his arm over and looking for a good vein from which to draw blood, as Cara held the other one down.

After a moment, she leaned down, pressing her forehead against Bucky's.

"You're okay," she whispered. "You don't need to be afraid. Everything's going to be okay. I'm here."

He was too far into his dreams to hear her.

**A/N: **I'm editing this at like midnight. There are bound to be typos, sorry.

No Matt Murdock cameos (yet. let's see how long I can go before I lose my mind), but even better, we have some pre-Daredevil Claire taking care of dorky cute heroes refusing to go to hospitals.

If you can spot the other (admittedly not Marvel, but DC/Vertigo) very minor cameo, kudos. I just got Fables &amp; Reflections today (what am I 21 years late on that one?). The entire dream is a reference I'm definitely coming back to, hopefully in more detail, because reasons. As usual, no knowledge needed. I'll just be here commandeering characters for my own sadistic purposes.

Repeating the disclaimer. Medical science things is hard, man. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't really know how long a spinal tap takes. I was just making stuff up. House is not accurate, but it teaches me things. There is the possibility that I'll be coming around and rewriting this if my information was too inaccurate. Thanks.

Tell me if I need to put the chapter summary here, or if you just need me to explain it in comments/PM. Your wish is my command.


	21. Nocturnes & Preludes

**A/N:** Song for this chapter is _Work Song _by Hozier.

_The Winter Soldier stumbled into the small room of the HYDRA base, soaking wet, limping, shoulder aching, metal arm barely working, fighting down the pain and confusion. _

_It was dark. _

_It was never dark. _

_Usually there were several scientists wandering around. Usually he was with was with an extraction team. Usually, he had completed his mission. _

_He was beginning to feel desperate. His eyes landed on the chair where they usually fixed his arm, and without thinking, he fell into it, sighing in relief a the weight now gone from his feet. _

_The sickly light flickered above him. No one came. _

_He was alone. _

_He glanced around. _

_There was no one here. _

_The words weren't making sense. _

_He was alone. _

_His heart began to beat faster. He didn't know what to do. He didn't have orders. _

_He was alone._

_A noise made him look up suddenly. A woman stumbled in,arms full of papers, freezing when she saw him. Bucky calmly held up the gun, rising to his feet. _

_"Can you fix my arm?" He said. His voice felt rough, almost uncomfortable to use. She looked at him, the gun, and his arm, and made the wise choice. _

* * *

_The Winter Soldier flinched, as a shooting jolt went up his back. The scientist had removed one of the plates, messing with on of the internal systems. _

_"What are still doing here?" Her voice was soft, with a French lilt. He didn't answer. "It is dangerous, you know. I had to come back for my research. But soon, SHIELD will be here. Or HYDRA. And it will all be gone."_

_He looked at her. _

_Her eyes were full of sympathy. "You... I know who you are. The Winter Soldier."_

_He gave a short nod. "I also know your story."_

_That more than I know, he thought. _

_She picked up another tool, rewiring something in his arm. "You know. I never wanted to join HYDRA. I just wanted to invent things. Then, one day, a man showed up at my work, and says to me, we will give all the funding you need if you join us. If you say no, your children will die. I... I say yes."_

_She looked at him. "You? You did not have such a choice." _

_She put down the tool. "Try your hand," she said. He did. His fingers flexed with only the slightest whir. "It will be a bit... hit and miss, for the next few days, I warn you." _

_He nodded, standing up. _

_"You need to run," she said. "Get out. We know too much, us two. They will not let us live."_

_Before he could move, she handed him a folder."Run, James. We will not meet again."_

_He looked at the name on the front. _

_James Buchanan Barnes._

**_"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."_**

**_"Shut up!"_**

_She was walking away. _

_"Wait!" He called out. His voice cracked. He looked around. There was nothing left for him here. She turned back. If he could see himself in her eyes, he would see the equivalent of a lost child. A lost soldier. A lost man, desperately awaiting orders that would never come. _

_"I... I don't know what to do."_

_"You are the Winter Soldier, no? Find a new mission."_

_Then she left him alone, under the dying, flickering lights, with the certain horrors of his past in his hands, and uncertain horrors of the future in front of him. _

* * *

_The Winter Soldier sat in his stolen clothes, taken from a large department store that hadn't even noticed him there, on a small bench. He had picked the pockets of several people, and had found a stash of money in the back of the HYDRA compound. He had enough to live under the radar for a while. He had some satisfaction from using their money. _

_He had read about what they had done, in the file the scientist had given him. Read about what they had done to his mind. _

_The people he had killed were influential people that were getting in the way of HYDRA's progress. They had been lying to him. He hadn't been benefiting humanity. He had been benefiting them. They had been using him. He looked up at the building in front of him. The Smithsonian. He saw the man's face,Captain America's face, on an advertisement, for an exhibit inside. He need to see it, to see if the man had been lying when they said they had known each other. _

_He had to see for himself. _

* * *

_The Winter Soldier didn't know how he was supposed to feel. _

_The man on the wall was him. _

_It was him. _

**_"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."_**

_"Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."_

**_"People are gonna die, Buck."_**

_People have died. _

**_"Run, James. We will not meet again."_**

**_"Who the hell is Bucky?"_**

**_"Find a new mission."_**

_People are gonna die. _

_The only Howling commando to give his life._

_Run. _

_We will not meet again. _

_New mission. _

_Your name. _

_His life. _

_James. _

_Bucky. _

_Run. _

_Run. _

_Run. _

_He took a step back, and almost instantly, collided with someone. He spun around, catching their shoulders as they nearly fell. They held onto him as well. _

_The crowds still rushed back and forth, ignoring them. They were only here to see the history they wanted to see. _

_Slowly, she raised her green eyes to meet his. _

_"Watch where you're going," he snapped. It was the first time he had spoken in a week._

_"I'm so sorry," she said, looking genuinely apologetic, making him feel slightly regretful of his sharp tone. "I wasn't paying attention. Sorry."_

_"It's fine, just watch where you're going," he said, quietly. He tried to let her go, but his arm chose that moment to... mess up, his gloved hand tightening on her. _

_He frowned. "Damnit," he muttered, his other hand flying to his wrist, struggling with it. When he let her go, he stumbled backwards, quickly walking away. He was vaguely aware of her following him. He tensed. _

_"What's your name?" She asked. He glanced back down at her, pausing for a moment._

**_"Your name is-"_**

**_"-Bucky?"_**

**_"-Barnes is the only Howling Command-"_**

_"I... I- My name is... Bucky."_

_"Cara," she said. It was a nice name. _

_"Nice to meet you," he said,so not looking at her. He kept walking._

_"How do you like the exhibit?" She said. He resisted the urge to ignore her completely and just keep walking. He didn't like her interest. _

_"It's okay," he said, staring at the date on the wall that said when he had died. "Some of it's inaccurate."_

_"Really?"_

_He nodded, refusing to look at her. Maybe she would leave._

_As if in in response, she said, "Maybe I'll see you around, yeah?" He felt her touch his arm. He flinched slightly at the contact._

_"Yeah," he mumbled. He kept moving. He needed to get out. Coming here was a risk. He didn't want to stay any longer, couldn't stay here any longer. He needed to run. He needed to run somewhere. He needed to get out. _

**_Run._**

_Bucky Barnes left the Smithsonian. _

_Bucky followed orders. _

_Bucky ran. _

* * *

Bucky opened his eyes.

The ceiling was white above him. For the first time in days, his head was clear. For the first time in days, it was quiet. For the first time in days, there were no voices or visions,. He turned slightly, seeing the chair Cara had been sitting in was empty. There were tubes going across his body, connected to an IV pole at his side, and in his arm. He sat up slowly, painfully, every muscle protesting, swinging his feet to the ground in an to stand up. He caught a glimpse of the world outside. It was nighttime. He managed to stay on his feet for about three seconds, before taking a step forward, and falling to the ground, the IV pole falling on top of him with a crash he was sure the entire building could hear.

"Bucky?" Cara said, flipping on the light, and rushing to his side from outside his room, pulling the pole off of him, helping him sit up. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just tried to stand up," he said, letting her help him back onto the bed. He tried to ignore how his face was burning, or how even once he was sitting, she didn't let him go, keeping her hands on his arm and back. "It didn't work."

She laughed. "I can see that. You okay?"

He shrugged. "Nothing hurt but my pride."

"I leave for five seconds, and you choose then to wake up," she said, smiling at him fondly.

"How long was I out?"

"Few days, in and out of consciousness. This is the first time you've really been awake."

"How'd I get this?" He said, holding up the arm with the needle sticking out of it.

"I called a friend in," she said. "You kept fighting me on the whole doing basic things like eating and drinking, and very clearly told me you didn't want to go to a hospital. My friend got me some medicine for you. Apparently you had some sort of infection because of your arm that made your brain swell up."

"Oh...Okay. Thanks."

She was watching him. "Do you remember anything?"

He shut his eyes, seeing flashes. "You... You were gone. And then there was someone pointing a gun at you... You were going to get shot. And I- I was hitting-..." He broke off, looking up at her in horror. "Cara, what did I do?"

"You nearly beat someone to death," she said, calmly and matter of factly.

He turned away, as waves of accusing words crashed around his mind. He had nearly killed someone. And there had been people before, blood on his hands. Had he killed again? He had done it before. But it was on him now, he had done it-

"You also saved my life."

Cara's voice shook him out of his thoughts. Maybe he had nearly killed someone. And maybe he was just a killer. But Cara was alive. It was worth it. It had to be. He looked at his hands.

"Did it scare you?"

"No," she said carefully. "It should have, but it didn't. Seeing you forget who I was did. Seeing you hallucinating did. I thought you were going to die, and that terrified me."

He reached for her hand. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

She was silent for a moment. "Do you remember when I asked for answers? After that trip to the store? Will you ever tell me?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He said, smiling darkly.

She smiled back. "Maybe."

"Do you still trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then please don't dig up the past. Please. You'll hate me."

"Alright," she said, squeezing his hand. "But you know I could never hate you. You're Bucky."

"Cara, if you knew what I've done, you wouldn't think about me as Bucky anymore-"

"No. You said to leave the past alone. So, I'm leaving it alone. It's over. And you're Bucky. You will always be Bucky to me."

He looked up, meeting her steady gaze. She was still holding his hand. He took in the dark stains under her eyes, and the slight tremors in her hand. She looked exhausted. She _was _exhausted.

"Do you remember anything else?"

"I remember you saying something. And then you were crying. I called you doll."

"And that was _adorable_," she said, standing up, and kissing his cheek. He shut his eyes at the contact, feeling like some of the weight in his chest was gone. "Now, lie down. I'll be back in a second."

As she walked away, and he sat back, he called out to her. "Cara?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

* * *

"Cara, I'm having Claire drop off some antibiotics. His infection is caused by some sort of bacteria, probably because of that _horrendous _metal arm. The good news is his immune system is amazing, extremely amazing, I'd like to study it after this, it's already fighting it off on it's own. We're just going to give him some antibiotics to help. I'll talk to you soon."

Ellis had left the message about a day after his initial visit. Bucky had been looking slightly better at the time, or at least at stopped complaining about the hallucinations, mainly just sleeping.

And now, he was actually awake, seeming better off than before this whole thing (other than the fact that he had collapsed after taking a step, but hey, that was to be expected). But he was okay. He was fine.

_Bucky Barnes was okay. _

The thought brought a smile up to her lips, as she leaned against the counter by the coffeepot, a swinging an empty mug around her finger. It may 1:50 in the morning, but the night was not over for her. The more she thought it, the more it seemed true, and the more it seemed like it might be permanent. The more she thought it, the more she could not seem to get the smile off her face.

A sudden movement by the window made her jump, her head snapping up, the action making her drop the mug in her hands. It shattered. There was nothing but the dim light of street lamps outside. It was only her sleep-deprived, overactive imagination playing a trick on her. She took a deep breath, leaning down to pick up the broken glass pieces, muttering under her breath.

"Cara?"

She looked up to see Bucky leaning heavily against the wall, looking like he literally dragged himself out of bed, and through the hall.

"Hey," she said. "You don't need to be up."

"I heard a crash."

"I dropped this. Sorry."

She threw the pieces in the trash, then walked quickly over to him, wrapping her arm around his waist, and helping him stumble back to bed.

"You look tired," he said, as he sat down.

"I am a little."

"Don't sleep in that chair."

"It's been fine so far."

"There's plenty of space here," he said, lying back, turning on his side. "You could catch a few decent hours."

"Bucky, I can't do that-"

"Why not?" He said. He gave her a pleading look. "Please, Cara. Please, it will make me feel better."

She groaned. "I cannot say no to you when you do that," she said, tapping him lightly on the nose. She stood up, yawning, moving to turn off the light,and sitting down next to him, leaning back so that she faced him. He reached for her hand. She was just able to see his face in the dark, his eyes open and watching her.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow."

**A/N:** I literally cannot stop with the Sandman references. Whoops.

This chapter is probably full of weird sentences/typos, but I can't bring myself to edit it again. Not very happy with it, but I think it's the best it's ever going to be.

Thanks as always for reading/reviewing! You are the reason I am not still staring at this in a swirling vortex of doubt and hopelessness.


	22. The Rest Of This

Cara woke up with curled against something distinctly human. There was a weight over her waist. Opening her eyes, she found herself pressed against Bucky's chest, his real arm wrapped tightly around her. Sitting up slowly, she slipped away from him, her feet landing silently on the floor as she checked the time. 3:31. About two hours of sleep. Not bad.

She looked back at Bucky. His breathing was deep. She extended a hand, lightly trailing her fingers down the side of his face, smiling slightly when he barely stirred. She stood up, unsure of where she wanted to go. She was unable, however, to take more than a few steps before she felt him grab her hand like he had done a few days before.

"Where you going?" he murmured, not fully awake. "It's still dark."

She sat back down. "I don't know. Just needed to clear my head. Go back to sleep."

"I've done enough sleeping for a lifetime," he said, struggling into sitting position. "I need to wake up."

She put her hand on his back, helping to support him as he sat next to her.

"Feeling better?"

"My head's better. Not at full strength though."

"You haven't eaten in a few days. It's to be expected."

"I've gone longer without."

She could feel her gaze become colder as she thought about him going years and years in cryo, not eating, not drinking, not speaking, not living. She thought about what It made her stomach churn. It also made her want to grab a gun, and find every single person who had done this to him. He clearly picked up on her change of expression, looking at her in concern.

"Yeah, and I don't want you to ever do that again."

She grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. He stumbled forward, falling slightly into her.

"We're going to have dinner."

"It's three in the morning-"

"It's a late dinner," she said, pulling him into the kitchen, one arm wrapped around his waist, and helping him sit down in the chair. She opened the cabinet, looking through, trying to decide what would be appropriate for a meal at three in the morning.

"What do you want?" She said, taking in the cabinets. "We have cans of soup, and more cans of soup, and bread, and an apple which I think is covered in mold... You know, let's go with soup."

After hunting for the can opener, and then a pan, and waiting for it for it to heat up, and nearly lighting it on fire (much to Bucky's amusement), their dinner at three in the morning was ready.

"Cara," Bucky said after a few minutes of silence, stirring his spoon around in his soup, nor taking a bite.

"Yes?"

"Tell me about your life before me."

She paused. "What's to know? I worked for a security company, and that didn't work out."

"Where were you born?"

"Russia, actually. I moved here when I was baby. Been everywhere in the world since then."

"You travel?"

"For work."

"Know any Russian?"

"да," she said. _Yes._

He smiled.

"я тоже."_ Me too._

"What other languages do you know?" She asked.

"French, German, Spanish, Japanese, Mandarin, Italian, Korean, Romanian, some Arabic, but it's not my best. A few others.

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Impressive." It was pretty good for a old man who had been frozen for years.

"Oui. Le français était la langue que j'appris de première."

She laughed. "You should speak in French more often. It suits you."

" Русский язык более естественным." _Russian is more natural._

"Show off."

He gave her smirk. "I know."

"What about you? Where were you born?"

"Brooklyn. I told you that."

"How was that?"

"Hard to remember."

"What about your life before me?"

"Before you, I don't know who I was."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "You were a defining moment. That day we met at the exhibit was the day I became me again. You asking me my name was the moment I became Bucky. I have you to thank for that, Cara. You saved me in more ways than you know."

Cara blinked. "I..." She began, falling silent. She remembered it, but she hadn't thought about what that moment had meant for him, seeing himself, his name and face on the wall, hearing his story. And the fact that she had been there from the beginning meant that she had been one of the only constants in his life. Guilt filled her chest as she thought about how that constant was a lie. The Allison Cara Fox he knew was nothing more than a fabrication. When he found out... If he found out, he'd never look at her the same way.

He cleared his throat, taking in her distant expression, and changing the subject. "Tell me about your family."

She thought about it. "We were a real freakshow. Dysfunctional as hell. But in a good way. They were good people. Mostly."

"Were?"

She shrugged, glancing at the table. "A lot of people have died, Bucky. The last few years have not been kind to me. If they're not dead, they went insane, or they left. I was left alone"

"You have me now," he said, and his voice was soft. She looked up at him, and he gazed back at her earnestly. There was the peace there that she had seen before. It had dulled slightly, but wasn't gone.

"Yeah. I have you."

"I know it's not what you lost-"

"You're perfect, Bucky."

He gave her a small, slightly pained smile. "I'm not."

"Well. You're the closest thing I've seen."

"Haven't you ever looked in a mirror?" He said, and Cara could see a flicker of the cocky young man who had joined the army once upon a time, a long time ago.

She rolled her eyes. "You know, that wasn't even your worst line."

"What was then?"

"You said some pretty unfortunate thing while you barely conscious. And asked me to go dancing with you. Several times."

He looked mildly like he was panicking, although when he spoke, he kept his voice carefully controlled and level. "And what did you say?"

"I said yes."

He nodded, and fell silent, turning his attention to back to his soup. She watched him, eyes falling on the way his metal fingers idly tapped out rhythms on the table. As she paid more attention to it, she realized it was Morse code.

\- -.- / -. .- - . / .. ... / .- .- - . ... / -... .- .-. -. . ... .-.-.- / -... ..- -.-. -.- -.- / -... .- .-. -. . ... .-.-.- / .- - -... - ... .-.-.- / .. / .- - / -... ..- -.-. -.- -.- / -... .- .-. -. . ... .-.-.-

My name is James Barnes. Bucky Barnes. 107th. I am Bucky Barnes.

She didn't say anything. He didn't even seem to know he was doing it. Reaching across the table, she grabbed his hand. The dots and dashes stopped.

"You told me about your family," she said. He looked up sharply.

"What?"

"You told me about your dad, and how he died, and your mom, and your sister..."

He paused. "My sister," he said, eyes distant.

"Rebecca, right?"

"She was the oldest other than me. She was the oldest after I left."

"They all sounded nice."

"They were," he said. "They're probably gone now,"

He had that look in his eye he usually got when he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. She quickly changed the subject to something much lighter.

"What would you do in a zombie apocalypse?"

"A zombie apocalypse?"

"You know, with a bunch of dead people who walk around trying to eat brains. Like..." She lifted her arms, and imitated a zombie.

He looked slightly confused. "I've never seen that."

"Wow. You have some catching up to do. We'll go watch some zombie movies after this. But what would you do?"

He looked thoughtful. "I... I'd stay with you."

"Yes, but what if I was gone? What if something happened to me?"

He looked up at her, suddenly seriously. "I wouldn't let that happen."

"We can't always be in control."

"I'd stay with you," he repeated, with an air of finality. She smirked.

"Alright then. Robot apocalypse."

"Same answer."

"Alien apocalypse?"

"Same answer. It isn't going to change."

"What if we were separated?"

"I'd find you," he said, before a brief panic flashed through his eyes. "Unless you didn't want me to-"

"No. I would. I'd find you first."

He shook his head. "Why are you asking about this?"

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Better safe than sorry."

"By planning for the least likely apocalypses?"

"Hey," she said, raising her spoon threateningly. "Aliens have attacked. I was there. There could be an apocalypse next time, and we have to be prepared."

"How close were you?" He asked, looking like he was mildly dreading the answer.

"Too close," she said. She looked thoughtful for a moment before choosing to answer. "I got shot."

He looked horrified. "What?"

"Not bad," she said. She stood up, lifting her shirt and turning around so he could see the scar on her back, on the far left side of her body, just under her ribs. It hadn't been as bad as it could have, not coming from a Chitauri, she hadn't been at the Battle, but from a SHIELD agent under Loki's control, on the helicarrier. The bullet had been far from anything vital, and it had been fixed fairly quickly.

She heard his chair scrape back, and was suddenly aware of him standing directly behind her, his fingers hovering over the mark, not making contact with her skin.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. You didn't do this." She let her shirt fall back down, and turned around to face him. His look was dark.

"That was from a man-made bullet," he said. "Not alien."

"People will take advantage of a situation, Bucky," she said. "Aliens and zombies and robots aren't the only monsters out there."

"I know," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "I know, I know, I know."

The peace was gone, like a bullet shattering glass. She saw what was left. She settled her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, as he tentatively ran his fingers through her hair.

"Hey. Hey, sorry," she said, her voice muffled slightly.

"Don't apologize," he said. "You're not the monster here."

She looked up, taking his face in her hands. He meet her gaze, letting her search . "You listen to me, Bucky Barnes. There are no monsters here tonight. There's just us, just you and me." Tilting his face down, she lightly kissed his forehead.

"Now, let's go watch some cheesy zombie movies," she said, pulling back. His eyes were shut. She took his hands, intertwining their fingers, and holding them between them. The cold metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his other one, his skin calloused. "Let's not think about the rest of this."

He nodded slowly, and his eyes flashed slightly, as he tried to lighten the conversation himself. "Any other apocalypses you want to plan for while we're here?"

She thought about it. "No... But what about now?"

"What do you mean?"

"What are we going to now? What if we have to leave?"

"I don't know," he said. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to stay with you."

Cara felt the guilt she felt earlier fill her chest again. She hid it behind her mask she had been wearing since she had first spoke to him, letting herself murmur one word.

"Good."

**A/N:** I'm editing this while listening to a New Mexico history lecture. My summer classes have begun. I hate it.

Oh no... I used google translate... So if someone here actually speaks French or Russian, I'm so sorry about butchering it, please tell me how fix it. That be nice. Thanks. **EDIT:** Shout out to Mary_yup and shannonscoffecup over on Wattpad for helping me out. Saved my life.

This again feels a little shaky to me, for a multitude of reasons, mainly because I was trying a lot of new things while not really moving the plot, but I needed to get this part over with, and there it will definitely get more action coming up. This was more just some short fluffy bonding before the next mini-arc starts (super excited for that, I've been planning it for a while).

Thank you again for your support! Love you all!


	23. Another One For The Fire

**A/N:** I listened to Karliene's cover of _We Don't Need Another Hero _while writing this, because I accidentally turned into the biggest Mad Max nerd on this planet (and I haven't even _seen _Beyond Thunderdome or Fury Road yet, can you believe it?). So it's sort of like the song for this chapter? I don't know. You can decide.

Cara seemed to have given up all pretenses of personal space, Bucky noticed, as he looked down at her curled against his side, head resting on his chest. Before this, she had almost been wary around him, then her touch gentle, almost like she was afraid to scare him. Now, it was desperate, like she was afraid to let him go, to lose him.

He didn't exactly mind, he thought, as he studied her in the dim light of the television. She was watching it, but seemed to be on the verge of dozing off. As carefully as he could, he gently lifted his arm up, wrapping it around her. He couldn't imagine the hell that she had been going through the past few days. She said she thought he was going to die. She had run herself into ground trying to take care of him. He didn't deserve this, her kindness. His fingers ran through her hair lightly, as she shut her eyes, finally giving in to exhaustion. He felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest as he looked down at her. It almost hurt. It did hurt. In a good way.

He turned his attention back to the television. Cara had asked her psychotic driving friend (who apparently never slept) about zombie movies, and had a list of all the necessary zombie franchises. They decided to start out with one that was in black in white, and that was what they were watching now. The characters were unorganized, needed a more secure base, the assailants were slow with no clear, developed thought processes, leaving Bucky pretty sure that he would survive Cara's zombie apocalypse.

_I'd stay with you,_ he had said. He would make sure that Cara survived all her scenarios. That was his plan.

He knew how to survive. He knew how to kill. It was, perhaps, all he really knew for certain. And he would use it to make sure that no one came near them. That no one got him again, twisting him into a worse monster. That no one got to Cara, and did the same or worse to her.

_There are no monsters here tonight, _she had said. If she knew about what he had done, would she still be able to say that? Would she still sit like this with him?

She wouldn't. She'd hate him. She's leave him, and frankly, he wouldn't blame her. She didn't sign up for this.

"You know," he said very quietly, the words slipping out. She didn't stir at the sound of his voice. "Sometimes, I think that if I had actually done what I was ordered to do on those helicarriers, and stopped Steve Rogers from destroying those ships, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

He looked down at her hands, and at his.

"I think that if I had woken up, and seen it, I would have died. That man, he was my best friend. And I almost killed him. Because I almost did it, a lot of other people almost died. Those would have been on me. Sometimes I wonder if you were on that list. The list of people they would have taken out. I think you would have been. You're brave, and have humanity, and you're not willing to put up people like them, and so you'd be a threat."

He held her tighter.

"If they didn't take you out, they might have order me to... They might have order me to kill you. I would have done it. I would that have shot you, when you weren't looking, when your back was turned. Make it look like an accident, or a mugging gone wrong. I could kill you now if I wanted to. You're trusting me, falling asleep next to me, and that is probably very stupid. But I want you to know, I wouldn't. Not now. They don't own me anymore. They can't make me do anything, they won't be able to, ever again. You're safe here, with me."

He shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers.

"You said I was Bucky. You said there were no monsters here tonight. That you would trust me. I won't let you down, Cara. I'm swearing this now. This is who I am, I know it, and no one will ever take that from me again, no one will make me into a monster again. You can trust me, and it will not be a mistake, I promise."

She shifted against him, murmuring something he couldn't quite catch, as her fingers caught his shirt, holding onto him as if she knew what he was thinking. She looked so peaceful. She had been so tired. He didn't want to wake her, not after the past few days.

He did a quick check of his strength. Some of it had returned, and he didn't think he would fall if he tried to walk now. He remembered coming out of cryo, and his legs had been so weak he had fallen to his knees. No had been foolish enough to try and help him, sensing the rage coursing in his veins. Waking up made him... Unstable, to say the least. Like then, he had regained his strength quickly, almost immediately being able to go on his mission. This wasn't any assassination. This was simply carrying someone twenty feet. He could do it. He knew he could.

Carefully, he stood up, and gently, more gently than he knew he was capable of, he picked her up, one arm under her knees, one under her back. She didn't wake up, as he lifted her his chest, taking a few steps. He could do this. He was not going to fall, not when he had her in his arms.

As he neared her door, he could feel his legs trembling, threatening to surrender to exhaustion. He could do this. He could do this. As he laid her on the bed, managing to put her down without waking her, pulling the blankets up around her, he felt his legs give out, falling to his knees at her side. Her hair was in her face, and without realizing it, he had brushed it away, fingers lingering lightly on her skin.

"Goodnight, Cara Fox," he whispered, standing up and swaying as he walked back to his room. When he shut his eyes, collapsing back on the bed, all he could see was her face. And he smiled.

He felt so at peace that he did not check the perimeter, and did not see the shadow lurking outside their window, the same one that had made Cara jump, simply waiting to strike.

* * *

Cara woke up, in her bed, to the sound of someone knocking on the door. She sat up quickly looking around. How did she get here? She shook her head, running her hand through her hair. She was sitting with Bucky... And then she fell asleep. He must have carried her here.

The knock interrupted her train of thought, and she stood up, walking out onto the hall. She glanced into Bucky's room. She caught a glimpse of him curled in the corner of his bed, arm glinting in the dull light. She smiled.

As she reached the door, something, call it instinct, made her stop, hand hovering inches above the handle. It was still fairly early in the morning, but it was not beyond the realm of possibility that someone normal would be knocking. There was a chance. But... This didn't feel right. She could quite put her finger on it. Carefully, she opened the door, feeling tense and alert.

The door opened.

"Lewis."

The man looked more ragged than he had before. He was leaning in the door, his eyes dark and full of something like hatred, and fear.

"You left."

"What?" she said.

"You left, and you _ruined _it. They think I failed."

"Lewis, I think you need to go-" she said, beginning to shut the door. He pushed it open, the force of it making her stumble back. He stepped in, shutting the door almost gingerly behind.

"Stop playing pretend, Fletcher. Stop playing games. Stop. Playing."

She glanced around. There were no weapons in the front rooms, too easy for Bucky to find. She could get to her room, but that would have to wake him up. And then, he might figure it out, or Lewis would tell him, and her cover would be blown. Bucky would see her for who she was. Bucky would know. He would... She didn't know what he would do. He would hate her. She had to do this on her own. She could handle it.

"Who are you?" She said. "And what do you want? I assume Lewis isn't your real name."

"You would be correct in assuming that. I am here, because I was unable to pick you up beforehand. You and your Soldier are an interesting pair. And as for my real name, well, that's classified."

"Who do you work for?"

He smiled, stepping forward, and she felt herself move back. "You know, a few months ago I couldn't have told you. But now that we're out of the shadows, into the light, I guess it doesn't matter."

"HYDRA," she said, heart beating faster, and she honestly felt sick.

"Hello," he said, and he was grinning. "You left me, and they thought I fail in my mission, isn't that funny? They thought I failed, and the person I work for doesn't like failure."

"I won't let you take him back," she said, as she glanced around, desperately looking for anything that would help her.

"You don't have a choice," he said, continuing forward. Her back hit the wall. She looked around. No weapons in view, save a picture frame.

"And we're taking you home too."

Her breath caught. "What?"

He leaned down, running a single finger down her face, stroking her cheek. She resisted the urge to kick him as far away from her as possible. He was talking. He was telling her what she needed to know. She needed this information. She had to know exactly how bad this was.

"You're going home. The Deathless is free, and he wants you back, little Firebird. You are going home. The Winter Soldier will return to his ice and continue his good work, and he'll forget ever met you, and all will be right in the world again."

Through the panic filling her mind, she fought down her terror, as his words rang in her head.

_"-You're going home-"_

_"-The Deathless is free-"_

_"-The Winter Soldier will return to his ice-"_

_"-He'll forget he ever met you..."_

She wouldn't let this happen.

She lashed out with her hand, breaking the glass in the frame, and grabbing a shard, and slashing it across it face. He stumbled back with a cry. She acted quickly, ignoring the blood trickling down her wrist from where the glass was cutting her, stabbing it into his stomach. He caught her arm, pulling it out before hurling her to the ground. She tried to get up, but his fist was hitting her face, and he was holding her wrists, she couldn't move her hand, he was stronger than he should be, terrifyingly, abnormally strong. She looked at his arm, and caught sight of a yellow, glowing device running from his wrist to his elbow, separated into segments.

Her thoughts were everywhere. He was some sort of enhanced human. He wanted to take her back to the place she had escaped from all those years ago. He wanted to take Bucky away, back to HYDRA. They would hurt Bucky. Bucky would forget her. And she was losing this fight. She struggled harder.

_I won't go back, _she thought. _They're going to hurt Bucky. They're going to hurt me. I can't lose. I can't go back. I can't lose!_

"I can't believe I finally get to say this to someone," he whispered in her ear. "But Hail HYDRA."

His fist collided with her face again. She spat out blood, choking back a cry of pain, twisting to the side, trying to get free, to at least be able to use the glass in her hand. He was still grinning that deranged, terrifying grin.

"Oh Cara, Cara, Cara. You've certainly made a mistake, haven't you?"


	24. Another One For The Ice

**A/N:** I'M HAVING LORD HURON EMOTIONS I'M SO SORRY JUST LISTEN TO THEM THE SONG THE WORLD ENDER FITS BUCKY AND IT'S ANGRY AND BUCKY'S ANGRY AND I'M ANGRY I LET A BAND DESTROY MY LIFE. THIS IS WORLD ENDER TERRITORY, BUB.

ps. intense chapter full of all parties getting pretty beat up, and there's a lot of emotions, so brace yourselves, there is violence and pain ahead. Also suspend your disbelief about the plot, because I don't know what I'm doing, and I am tired.

* * *

It was the sound of glass shattering that made Bucky's eyes open. He sat up quickly, hand reaching for the gun at his side, his feet dropping to the floor silently, flipping the safety off. As he crept forward, he heard another crash, and he heard someone else talking. Someone that wasn't Cara. As he got closer, he could make out their words.

"-say this to someone," the voice was hissing. "But hail HYDRA."

Bucky froze, feeling like the world had stopped. They had found him.

Hail HYDRA.

_He was saying that to someone. It was an answer to the question. He was kneeling in front the chair where they just wiped his mind, head down, knowing only what they had given him._

_"Are you willing to take this mission, Soldier? Are you prepared to do what must be done in service not only to this country, but for the world? Are you willing to give up your and other lives for the sake of peace?"_

_He had been silent for a moment, before raising his head, and saying, with utter, broken conviction. "Hail HYDRA."_

Hadn't he escaped those words? They couldn't have found him. They couldn't be here.

The voice was speaking again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Oh Cara, Cara, Cara. You've certainly made a mistake, haven't you?"

_Cara._

A feeling of cold he had felt before crept through his bones, fighting down the flashes of a red hot fury that was burning through his veins like flames, and numbing the agonizing, dizzying fear. They knew her name. They knew her. They had her. But he couldn't think about that now. He had to focus. He began to walk forward now, staying in the shadows until he could get a good idea of what was happening. When he saw the scene in front of him, he had to take a step back.

Cara was lying on the ground, mouth covered in blood, a bruise on her cheek, holding a large piece of bloody glass held like a knife. It was currently useless, her hand pinned to the ground, and she was underneath the man who had been talking, desperately struggling to get free. She snarled up at the speaker, like a caged, wounded animal.

As he clenched his fists, he let himself slip into a different mind, the cold consuming him.  
The other man had no weapons, although there was something on his arm, glowing, yellow. If he could get him off her, she would be safe.

He didn't waste any more time in running forward, knocking him to the side, punching him hard in the face with his metal hand. The man looked up at him, and Bucky recognized it as the man she had gone in a date with. Lewis? He felt a sense of satisfaction to see that he had a deep cut on his cheek and nose, and a stab wound to the stomach.

The man tried to hit him, but Bucky caught his wrist, squeezing his hand until he heard a the crack of a broken bone. The device flickered slightly as the man screamed. Bucky took that opportunity to throw him into the wall. He slid to the floor, motionless.

Bucky took a few deep breathes, staring at the figure, not wanting to turn his back completely. He glanced at Cara, seeing that she had struggled to her feet. She wasn't crying, there were no tears in her eyes, but she looked visibly shaken, hands held in front of her chest, blood running down her wrist. He reached for her, pulling her closer as she stumbled towards him. Gently, he wiped the blood off her mouth, before tilting her head up to look at him. She avoided his gaze, as he kissed her forehead. She kept getting hurt, and he had been doing nothing to stop it. He was failing at his mission. He took her hands in his. The glass had cut the left one to shreds.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

She shook her head.

"Is he alone?"

She nodded.

"You could have called me. I could have helped you."

She shook her head again, breathing becoming more like sobs. But she still wasn't crying. She wasn't looking him in the eye, but she wasn't crying. He wrapped his arms around her.

"You're okay."

"Bucky," she whispered, shutting her eyes. "You didn't hear him?"

"No. Not until the end."

"He said horrible, horrible things."

He would have threatened her. He would have said things he knew would hurt. But Cara was strong. She wouldn't have let him get to her like this. Something was wrong. Bucky breath caught. Had he told her about him? Did Cara know who he was? What else would he have said?

"It's okay."

"That's sickeningly adorable," the man said suddenly, rising to his feet with a sneer. "They said you two were together. I didn't think like that. You _almost_ look human."

Bucky lifted the gun in his hand, and tried to push Cara behind him, but she refused to move, staying at his side, staring down the man. He settled for keeping his arm in front of her, hand on her hip.

The man nearly rolled his eyes. "Do you think that is going to protect her? My orders are to bring you both in, and I am not going to let months of research and work just because you have little crush."

"Leave her out of whatever this is. You want me."

"_We_ want you. _They_ want her. It's a symbiotic relationship that's been in play for decades. I don't mess with the system."

Cara shuddered.

The man noticed, turning his attention to her. "This is your fault. You lead me here. You lead me to him. Everything they do to him, every life he takes, is on you."

Bucky looked down at her, for only a moment. She was staring ahead, completely emotionless, like that first day in the rain, nails digging into her neck. He thought he almost caught a flicker of fear, but then it was gone, and he was looking away, back at the enemy at hand.

"Just leave her alone," he said, lowering the gun. "Please. I won't struggle. I'll go with you. If you just leave her alone, I'll go with you."

"That's not an option. Only taking one of you is a failure, hence why I didn't just take her. She's _weak_. She isn't a soldier, not like us. I could have dragged her out of here and you would never even have known it. But I have to take both of you, and I've never been one to back down from a fight."

"This is your last chance to get out."

"Oh, shut up," the man said. "I didn't think you would be this sentimental. Let's me make this _extremely _clear. No matter what you try to do, you're going to lose."

"Have you ever actually seen me fight before?" Bucky said. "I don't lose."

"You did lose though, didn't you? When you fell off that train."

Bucky clenched his fists.

The man laughed, and it made him feel sick. "You'll lose now too. See, I'm very good at my job. And even if you manage to kill me, I swear, my last act will be putting a bullet through her brain, so you'll have to watch her die with me, and you still lose."

"That's not going to happen. And someone would have heard this by now. They must have called the police. Think of all the civilian witnesses."

He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to kill. He didn't want to go back down that hill. He just wanted to get him and Cara out of this alive.

"Oh, them? I wouldn't worry. They've all taken an unexpected vacation."

"You're so full of yourself," Cara said suddenly. "You can't fight us both. He won't lose this, he has me."

The man looked thoughtful. "You're right, I guess," he conceded. "I can't fight you both."

He pulled out a gun, aiming it quickly at Cara, before Bucky even knew what he was going to do, and pulling the trigger.

"No!" Bucky screamed, firing his own gun, and knowing that he missed. He caught her as she stumbled back, collapsing into his arms, clutching her chest. Her fingers were trembling, and she stared up at him, struggling to speak, but only small gasps escaping her. He stared at her, and it didn't feel real, it all felt distant. That man had pulled a trigger, and Cara was on the ground, how had that happened? He rocked her slightly. Cara was shot. Cara couldn't be shot.

"There. Now I'll only fight you."

His head shot up, the man's voice snapping him from his thoughts, and he stared at the man, clutching his broken arm, blood dripping down his face. Bucky stared at him imagining every way that he could kill him, as he held Cara's limp form tightly.

"What did you do?" He said, and even though he tried to keep his voice controlled, he heard the rage behind his words.

"Don't worry. She's not hurt too badly. That would be bad for business. No, that was a paralytic bullet. It probably didn't even go past her ribs. Stings a bit, but she'll be fine in a few hours."

"I'll kill you," he said, slowly. "You'll die for this. I'll kill you."

"You can try."

Bucky looked back down at Cara, who was still gasping for air. Her eyes met his, as she grabbed his hand tightly. She was shaking. Whatever that bullet did, it obviously hurt much more than "a bit". She was hurting. Cara was hurting.

"Kick his ass for me," she struggled. "I'll help you... when I'm up."

"Don't worry about this," he said. "You can get the next one."

"Be careful," she said. "Please be careful."

He gently put her down, and stood up slowly, taking a deep breath, as he looked up at the man.

He looked almost gleeful when he spoke again. "You know, the real reason I chose this assignment was because I wanted to see if I could beat the great Winter Soldier. I nearly won just by taking out a girl. Is that what you are? Have you grown a heart, after all these years? Big mistake. Attachment is dangerous, you know."

"No. you made the mistake. You hurt someone I care about. You threaten her. You're taunting me. And you're trying to take me back to them. Attachment isn't the danger here. _I am_. And I think you might be the one person on this planet who I'll enjoy killing."

"That sounded much more like the you I expected. Like something a _monster _would say. What happen to thatheart?" Came the snide remark.

"I never had one," was Bucky's answer, and then he lunged forward, tackling the man, knocking the weapon out of his hand. He hit him across the face, in the same place where he saw the bruise on Cara's cheek, and he felt a surge of near elation, unable to keep a smile off his face, as he hit him again, and again, and again.

"See?" The man said, spitting out blood. "You like hurting people. This is who you are."

Bucky paused mid punch, and the man took advantage of it to push him to the side, and kick him in the face.

"You are _nothing_ but a weapon."

His foot hit him in the chest, knocking him back, with a grunt. He landed next to Cara, where she was trying to drag herself up. Trying to help him.

The man stood over him. "You will never be anything more than what we made you," he said, as he brought up his foot and brought it down on Bucky's human arm. He cried out, twisting onto his side.

"Bucky!" Cara said. "Stop it! Please! Leave him alone!"

"You don't deserve her," the man said leaning down, and whispering in his ear, making him look at her. She was staring at him, pushed up on her arm, unable to move much beyond that. "You will _never_ be good enough for her."

The man's foot collided with his ribcage. He cried out again, shutting his eyes.

"You are nothing but a killer. A monster. The Winter Soldier."

"Don't listen to him," Cara was whispering, and he knew it was hurting her to speak. "He's the only monster here, and then there's you and me. You're Bucky. Remember. Don't let him take it away from you. You have to remember-"

She broke off, and there was a muffled shout, and he opened to see her lying back down, his hand on her mouth, and he had a knife pressed into her stomach, just deep enough to draw blood... Everything else, all the man's words, the pain from the fight faded slowly away in the rush of blind fury that followed.

Each punch felt like nothing. He was faintly aware that occasionally that one of the other man's hits would actually land on him, but the pain was muted. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinking that he couldn't kill him yet, he had to find out if more people were coming, if they need to run _now_.

After a few more minutes, he realized that the man wasn't fighting back anymore. Bucky looked down to him him, bloody and unconscious. Bucky stumbled back, looking down at his hands, covered in crimson. He glanced at Cara, who was watching him, having pushed herself back up, searching for any sign that she was repulsed by what he just did, that she was scared. He didn't see any of it. Only Cara. Kneeling beside her, he reached for her, wanting nothing more than to hold her, despite the blood on his hands. She held him back. The moment seemed to last forever, as he breathed her in, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. She was still shaking.

The man stirred to their left, and Bucky pulled back, standing up, and reaching over to drag the body behind him.

"You don't need to see this," he murmured, as he began to limp towards the door.

"Bucky," she said. He looked back at her. "Be careful."

"You don't have to worry about me."

As he was leaving, he heard her say, "Yes, I do."

* * *

The building Bucky chose to interrogate the man in was a warehouse in Hell's Kitchen, old, and abandoned, far from anyone who might care. It was probably used by the Russian mob for the same purposes. He didn't care. He'd fight them too.

He sat the man down in an old rickety chair, sitting across from him, as he patiently waiting for him to fully come around. He had found industrial grade chains that even he couldn't break, using them to on the man's hands and feet.

The man blinked awake slowly, looking up at him. He smiled.

"Hello there, Soldier."

"Does all of HYDRA know we're here?" Bucky said, leaning forward, and resting his arms on his legs. He almost would look relaxed if it were not for the gun hanging out of one hand, and the knife hanging out of the other.

"I can't tell you that."

"Fine. I'll cut off some fingers. Maybe then you'll share," he said, standing up, holding up the knife. It glinted in the dull light.

"Do you think that's the worst that can happen to me? HYDRA will erase me. You know what they can do. They'll leave behind a dead husk, only good for an example if I fail them."

"You've already failed them. I'll give you a clean death."

The man began to laugh, tilting his head back. "I'm dead anyways."

"Let it be as painless as possible."

He began to laugh harder. "Do you love the girl? Do you love Cara _Fox_?"

Bucky stopped. "Don't say her name."

"Right. Her _name_. Do you love her?"

There was something about the way he said "her name" that didn't sit right with Bucky, but he kept silent, glaring at him steadily.

"I'll take that as a yes. Tell me, does she know what you are? Will she ask you after? Will she be able to forgive you after this?"

"Shut up," he said.

"Oh, but you wanted me talking and now I'm having fun. You know, she's pretty. I don't blame you. If that date had gone right, imagine how far I would have got with her. Oh, but I bet you imagine doing it yourself. Maybe you already _have _done it. If so, tell me all about it-"

"Shut up!" Bucky yelled, turning around, trying not to slaughter the man he was supposed to be interrogating.

"Don't worry. Maybe they'll let you keep her for a while before they hand her off. Of course, before they give her to the Deathless, they'll have to wipe her memory, probably in the same chair as you. You won't even know who she is then. You'll probably be the one to put her in it, as she begs for your help, and you ignore her-"

Bucky spun around, stabbing the knife into into the man's leg. He screamed in response, it soon turning into more laughter.

"You do love her," he snarled through the pain. "You don't know what she is, do you? You know what, I'll let you figure it out. It'll be so much better that way."

"Tell me who else knows."

The man glared at him, before he shrugged suddenly. "I'm dead anyways. Only a limited number of people know I'm here. They gave me four weeks to bring you in, and that was four days ago. When those four weeks are are up, they send in a team. You move suddenly, and they send in a team. You do anything suspicious, they send in a team."

"Why wait?" Bucky said. "Why not send in a team instead of you?"

"We're stretched pretty thin at the moment. We lost our best assassin. Your buddy Captain America is tearing up facilities everywhere with that winged friend. Black Widow is assembling the rest of the Avengers. What's left of SHIELD is fighting for control. It's absolute chaos." He said chaos with a grin.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't have anything to lose. But Cara, precious Cara... You still have her. You won't for long, of course, but you have her know. We're gambling, and I'm going to win because I don't have anything. You're going to lose, and you you're going to know it. When they tear her away from you, you'll never see her again, and you'll know you lost."

"No."

"No? You're just a puppet. That's all you are. You're both just puppets. And what do puppets do when their strings are cut?"

Bucky stared at the man as he leaned forward, about to answer his own question.

Bucky raised the gun without hesitation and shot him in him through the head.

Staring at the body for a moment longer, he looked down at the gun. This was the first time he had killed since escaping. He didn't even feel anything.

There was a box of matches on the floor. Bucky picked it up, striking one, and throwing it into the man's lap. As he shrugged on a jacket he had stolen to hide the bloodstains and his arm, he thought about all the things he had said. About how he was nothing more than a weapon. How Cara would never accept him, much less forgive him. About how someone wanted her. About how he was truly a monster. They would haunt him for a long time, he knew that. He didn't care.

The silence on the walk back was a blessing and a curse, because while it freed him from the words of others, it let them ring repeatedly, in his own voice, echoing around his head.

But now he knew, and he knew it for sure.

HYDRA had tortured him for too long, and this was the last time. They had taken his name, his identify, twisted him into something else, but they weren't ever going to do it again. He was going to see that chaos, raise a little hell.

They had made the Winter Soldier.

And they were going to regret it.

**A/N:** Right, this is basically going to be two author's notes, because the only joy I find in life comes from leaving cliffhangers without a word (just kidding. for the most part). Forgive the length of this.

The chapter titles are based on one of the last lines from "Night of The Living Dead", the movie Cara and Bucky were watching. They go "That's another one for the fire" after they shoot a guy, and throw him in a bonfire. Cause I've been reading too much asoiaf, and watching too much Game of Thrones, and in this story Cara symbols are fire/summer and Bucky are ice/winter, I decided to run with it.

I felt kinda bad for taking Cara out of the game, but I really wanted Bucky to be the one to fight the Hydra goon, it only seemed appropriate that he gets to beat him up. Poor Cara is exhausted and emotionally drained, and not a supersoldier like the other two, and really does not need to be fighting anyone right now, especially not a Centipede soldier. What she needs is a nap. And maybe some chicken nuggets.

While Lewis/the man (Bucky doesn't use his name because names are incredibly important to Bucky, and he wants to deny HYDRA the same thing they denied him) was voicing both Cara's and Bucky's fears and insecurities (it almost made me sick writing some of that stuff, please know that I was just trying to keep with his character, and it wasn't me), aka hitting them where it hurts, I'm like 93.3% sure he's not a mindreader, just a good, sociopathic, manipulative spy.

Fight scenes are hard. There were tears involved in writing this. Literal tears. It didn't help a lot was written after an emotional concert experience (the reason for as-before-mentioned Lord Huron emotions) at like three in the morning.

The science bullet is weird. Don't ask me. I was originally just going to use a taser, but unless Darcy is using it, there's no fun in it.


	25. Convalescence & Confessions

**A/N:** More good music for this chapter/the entire story is _The Courage Or The Fall _by Civil Twilight.

Bucky came back late that evening, after making sure evidence of his involvement in the murder was covered up. He then found the man's apartment, and searched it, finding nothing of any interest (other than a bullet hole in the television). After checking all the surrounding areas he found no one else ready to attack them, no one else hidden in the shadows, and making sure all their neighbors were indeed simply sleeping (he had no idea how the man had handled that one, but it was true. Not one of the neighbors was harmed, or awake, or a spy), he came back. He stripped off the jacket as soon he stepped through the door.

"Cara!" He called out, walking forward. There was a streak of blood on the wall, ending in half of a hand print. He imagined her stumbling into it, her hand cut up, struggling to walk forward. It lead to her room, the door half open.

Bucky pushed his way in, eyes flitting around, and almost immediately, he saw her. She was pressed against the wall, her hands extended, palms up. Kneeling in front of her, he took the one that had been cut. Her head snapped up, and she met his gaze for a single moment, before looking away. She looked like she had been close to crying. There were still bits of glass in them, and he saw where the blood had dried dripping down her wrist. Stepping back, he walked to his room, where he kept some spare medical equipment. He had went out and bought them while Cara was at work one day, stashing it beneath his bed, hoping he would never have to use it. She hadn't moved when he got back.

"Hey," he whispered, sitting down in front of her, taking her hand. "I'm going to try and fix what I can."

She didn't answer, didn't respond, barely even reacted as he pulled out bits of glass, cleaned out the cuts, and disinfected and wrapped her palm in white gauze. She didn't make eye contact with him again, staring off at some distant place on the wall.

When he was finished, he sat down next to her, their hips and should parallel and pressed together. Without saying anything, he gently (although slightly hesitantly) wrapped his arm over her shoulder. She reacted almost instantly, pulling herself toward him, wincing slightly, curling against his chest, letting him wrap his other arm around her waist, and hold her.

"Is the bullet still..." he paused as he searched for the right word. "Working?"

She nodded. "I tried to get up. I tried to help you. Shit, it hurts."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair, and he was truly sorry. He was sorry that she had this done to her. He was sorry he couldn't stop it. "You said a doctor came to help me. Can we call them?"

"My phone," she said, waving towards the small table by the bed. "Name is Ellis."

He nodded, lifting her up, carrying her again, and setting her on the bed. Her bedside drawer was hanging open, and he caught sight of a handle of a handgun. So that's why she had come in here. She kept it in the same place he did. He pushed that to the back of his mind. Picking up her phone, he looked through her contacts.

_B. Allen._

_B. Banner_

_C. Barton_

_J. Constantine_

_Chas- call if Constantine is being difficult _(he wondered what that was about. Maybe he'd ask her one of these days).

_J. Diggle_

_M. Ellis_

He called quickly, as Cara watched him. The phone rang a few times, before a slightly overwhelmed sounding voice answered.

"Hello? Cara? Listen, this might not be the best time-"

"Cara's hurt. We need help."

"What?" Ellis said. "James, is this you? What happened? Where's Cara?"

"Cara?" A second voice said. "As in Cara _Cara_?"

"Yes, Phil. I assume you remember Cara. Now, please continue, James."

"Someone attacked us, and shot her with some kind of bullet that acting as a paralytic. She's in pain, she's having trouble moving. I... I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."

Another voice piped up suddenly. It sounded young and feminine, with a British accent.

"What? Paralyzed her? Did it knock her out?"

"No. Who the hell are you?"

"Right, sorry. I'm Jemma. I sort of, kind of know Dr. Ellis. I can help."

He faintly heard another voice shout in the distance that they couldn't be helping random people who just broke in, but was shushed by the one Bucky was pretty sure was called Phil. He faintly wondered what Ellis had been doing, and how many people there were. He switched on speakerphone, putting it down.

"Describe what the wound looks like for me," Jemma said. He looked at Cara, who began to pull up her shirt, before wincing.

"Can you help me get this off?" She said. He nodded, gently lifting it over her head. She didn't seem at all shy about the fact that she was sitting in front of him, wearing very little on her top. All thoughts about anything that could be considered inappropriate were quickly dispersed when he saw the scar under her collarbone, and the shallow cut on her stomach. There were other scars too, smaller. And then there was the entry wound of the bullet. He nearly left right then and there, with every intention of tracking down whoever gave the man orders to do this. And he almost told himself that if he did that, it wouldn't be running away.

"It's in the center of her chest, doesn't seem that deep. There are blue marks around it that look like veins. It's bleeding slightly."

"Might be like the I.C.E.R.s, some form of dendrotoxin, perhaps combines with some sort of electrical charge, that would explain the paralytic effect, and blue appearance from where it entered the bloodstream, it basically temporarily shuts down the muscles, that's why it hurts," Jemma rambled very quickly. He could barely keep up. "It should wear off soon, but you're going to need to clean it up or run the risk of infection, would would possibly be fatal, much worse than the original injury at least. Very bad to say the least, so don't let it get infected."

"Okay," Bucky said. "And she's going to be okay?"

"Most likely."

"You can call me if she isn't improving," Ellis said. "And I will be there when I can. You take care of her, James. Promise me that you will keep her safe."

"I can hear you," Cara said, although she looked faintly amused. "I can take care of myself, Dr. Ellis. I'm not a child anymore."

"Cara. You're injured. Take the night off. Let someone else do the worrying for once."

"She'll be okay," Bucky said.

"James, can speak to you for a moment?"

He let his eyes drift to Cara, who nodded. Picking up the phone, he turned off the speaker and put it to his ear, as he walked away.

"What?" He said.

"What happened?"

"We were attacked. Cara got hurt," he repeated.

"Who were they? Were they looking for you or Cara?"

He paused. "Both," he said reluctantly.

"Tell me exactly what they said about Cara. Who is looking for her?"

"I don't know. They mentioned something called the Deathless."

There was a pause on the other end.

"James," Phil said, speaking up for the first time since asking about Cara. "I don't know who you are, but Cara seems to trust you. You need to get out. Both of you. Now."

"We can't. If we leave suddenly, they'll send in a team. I can't fight a team right now."

"Set something up so you can disappear, get out of there by the end of the week."

"Who is it?"

"Someone Cara got away from," Ellis said, speaking up again. "And if she goes back, it would kill her."

"I need to know who it is," Bucky repeated.

"I can't say. All you need to know is that if the Deathless finds her, Cara will die, alone and scared and in agony."

Bucky shut his eyes. "What do I tell her?"

"She knows it's bad. Stay with her. Watch her back."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Maverick Ellis, and Cara is the the closest thing I ever had to a daughter. You do not let her go back to that place, do you hear me?"

"Who are they, and why do they want her?"

"The Deathless is a dangerous man, a man of science and faith, reason and magic. He is insane, driven by lust for knowledge, perfection, life, death, love. And he mistakenly thinks that Cara will give him those answers. That is all I will say."

"How do you know her?"

"Not my secret. Now, if you know what's good for you, you leave it alone. Protect her. Not just from the Deathless but from herself. She can handle people fighting her, but this will have done something else entirely. Please, make sure she's okay."

Bucky was silent for a moment. "I don't think the best person-"

"I don't care. You are all she has right now. Now I have to go. By the way, I'm glad you're feeling better. Make sure that Cara is okay."

The line went dead.

Bucky was left standing there, staring at Cara's phone. He took a deep breath, slowly processing all that information, before going back to Cara. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at their hands. She didn't move when he sat down, sitting almost motionless.

"What was that about?"

"They wanted me to make sure you're okay."

She nodded slowly. "Oh."

"Are you?"

She looked up at him, giving him a forced smile that didn't meet her eyes. "I'm fine."

He gave her a hard look. "I don't believe you."

She looked away, picking at the shirt in her hands. "Can you help me?"

"Give me a second, you heard what they said about letting it get infected," he said, standing up, and going to the bathroom. After wetting one of the rags in hot water, he walked back, gently pressing it on the bullet wound, (which almost immediately stop pleading) before bandaging up both it and the gash on her stomach, and helping her pull the shirt over her head.

"Cara..."

"Please don't ask me if I'm okay."

He grabbed her hand. "This is my fault. And I'm sorry."

Her head snapped up, and she gave him a sharp look. "Don't say that."

"It is-"

"I lead him here. This is on me. I thought he was safe, I didn't think... I trusted myself. I thought I knew how to read people."

"Not _these_ people," he said. "They aren't normal. They make a living lying and killing and hurting people."

She shut her eyes. "Not all of them."

"Yes, all of them," he snapped, and she flinched. He instantly regretted it. "Sorry. You didn't... This isn't your fault."

She was silent for a long time, eyes still closed. She opened them again, all emotions was gone. Pain, fear, anger, sadness. It looked like she had slipped on a mask.

"Are _you _okay?" She said, and her voice didn't waver.

"What?"

"He was hitting you... He stepped on your arm. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Been through worse."

She stared at him, emotionless. "Bucky," she said slowly. "I want to leave."

His heart felt like it stopped beating. He was nodding, only faintly aware of it. She wanted to leave, she wanted to leave him.

_Stay with her. Watch her back._

How could he do that if she wanted to leave him? He couldn't disrespect that, but he couldn't let her go out there without him. And he, he wasn't sure if he could be without her.

It took him a second to process that she was still talking to him. "You'll stay with me, right?"

He looked up at her. She was staring at him expectantly. He grinned, and it was the first time that he could remember smiling this big. Her face lit up, as he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"Yes," he whispered. "Always. Of course."

"Good," she said. He leaned back.

"We can't leave yet, okay?" He said softly. "Give me a few days to set some things up, just act normally, and then we'll leave, and they'll never find us again. We'll be safe."

She nodded, smiling slightly. "What a dream that is."

"Not a just dream. We _are_ going to to be okay."

She let her gaze drop, although her smile didn't. "You were wrong, you know. You do have a heart. Don't you ever think otherwise."

He didn't answer, gently kissing her cheek. "You should rest," he murmured. "I'll see you in the morning." As he stood up, she reached out grabbing his hand.

"Don't leave me alone," she said, and he caught a spark of panic. "Not tonight. Please. Can you stay?"

He looked back at her, and sat back down. "Alright."

"Thank you," she whispered. She moved stiffly to her spot, curling up beneath the blankets. He stared at her, not moving. "Come on. You'll freeze to death out there."

He gave a small laugh. "It takes a lot for me to freeze to death, I promise," he said, although he slid in next to her, turning off the lamp. She reached for his hand again, shutting her eyes.

"Bucky Barnes," she said, and he cold tell that she wanted to s

"Cara Fox."

"Please tell me you didn't believe anything he said. He was trying to get you angry, get you reckless, break you. That's why he shot me. When he said those things... About you being only a weapon, and a just a killer, and a monster, he knew that it would hurt you because you are the exact opposite."

"You don't know what he meant-"

"Maybe. Maybe, but I know you. And know people like him, and how they work. Those things were to make you lose yourself. And the reason it works? Because they aren't true."

Her eyes were still shut, but she was gripping his hand very tightly.

"Goodnight, Barnes."

It took him a second to remember how to speak. "Goodnight."

He lay there stiffly, turning on his back so that his metal arm was far away from her. He still held her hand with his human one. The ceiling was plain white, and as he stared at it, he could see all sorts of patterns. He felt the seconds tick by as he lay in the moonlight streaming in through the window, Cara curled at his side, sirens sounding outside, streetlamps flickering. The seconds stretched into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours, and the hours felt like an eternity. He couldn't sleep, his thoughts jumping around. All he could think about was how the man had been that close to killing Cara, and taking him back. How someone wanted Cara, and how strangers were telling him that someone was going to hurt her, and that made him scared. He remembered standing in that store, and being told that she was not all she seemed. It wasn't a mind trick. Cara was special, and he didn't know why. He thought about HYDRA, about what they would do to him, about what they would make him do, and he felt sick. He thought about walking back, swearing they would never hurt him again, and he thought about how he could make both his missions, redemption through protection and redemption through vengeance work side by side. He thought about what she had said, about not listening to the man's poisoned words.

He thought about her.

He looked at her. She was asleep, breathing deeply.

"We're going to be okay, Fox," he said, very quietly.

What he said next, he wasn't sure he had ever said it before, not like this. All he knew was that he meant it, and that he would take whatever came with it. He let the sentence simply hang there between them, while she slept, and once he had said it, he too finally surrendered to deep oblivion of sleep.

_"I love you."_

**A/N:** Well then. I don't know what that was. Was that sappy? Is sappy good? Where did the word "sappy" originate from? Was someone just looking at a tree with like carved initials on it and think "wow, that's sappy". Ack I'm really tired, I forgot what the point of this note was.

This whole "Bucky-doesn't know who Cara is" arc is going to be over pretty soon, head up, so if you want answers on who she is, and want to know what his reaction is going to be when he does eventually find out, wait a few more chapters, there is a few more things I need to set up.

I saw Ant-Man. It made me cry over an ant. I will remain true to that canon in this story.

This is like right after Season 1 of AOS, so Jemma's still there. It's like May, 2014 in this story, at the current point.

Haha, my husband's name was in this. It's like playing where's waldo, except there like a billion waldos and they're all comic characters. Find him and you win my love (jk, you all already have my love just for reading this story).


	26. Waiting To Bleed

**A/N: **I'm just going to leave you with the words _Cold Arms_ by Mumford and Sons, and assume you get my meaning. It's where the chapter title's from.

_He was dreaming. Cara was sitting next to him, on marble steps that looked out across a narrow street, and a park, with streetlamps flickering slightly . The world was black and white, like one of those movies he remembered watching with Steve in the theater. He didn't look at her._

_"You ever hear that rhyme?" She said, as if they had already been talking._

_"Which one?"_

_"It's about magpies, or ravens. I can't really remember. You count the birds. One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, six for silver, seven for gold, seven for a secret never to be told. And whatever you get is going to happen. "_

_Some sort of bird flew in front of him._

_"There's one."_

_"Sorrow," he said. "There's a lot of that here, isn't there?"_

_She nodded. "Yeah," she said. He watched as two more birds joined it. "A girl."_

_"Hi, Soldier," another voice said. He looked at his other side. The girl looked at him holding her stuffed toy, still wrapped in the large coat. "I changed my mind. His name isn't Jamie anymore. His name is Jimmy. Like Jimmy the Cricket who sings on the television, and wishes on stars and the pretty blue lady comes and grants wishes. I want to wish on a star, but all I get are the silly birds who say I'm going to be sad."_

_"Hi, girl," he said._

_"Bucky," Cara was saying, and he looked back at her. "Please come back to me."_

_"I'm right here."_

_"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."_

_"One for sorrow, two for joy," the girl chanted next to him. She was suddenly sitting in front of him, counting her fingers. "Three for a girl, four for a boy. Five for silver, six for gold."_

_There were birds sitting around her. Seven birds._

_"Seven for a secret never to be told," the girl and Cara spoke in unison. He looked at her. She was staring at her hands, and they were bleeding. She stood up suddenly, walking away from him. He stood up, trying to follow her, but she was disappearing into the fog, not looking back, and he was frozen._

_"Wait, Cara! Wait for me!"_

_"Never to be told," the girl said. She glared at the bird nearest to her. "It's creepy eyes are looking at me. I don't like it. Go away!"_

_"Cara!" Bucky said, still trying to follow her. "Girl, where is she going?"_

_"I dunno. Somewhere, probably," she said, still glaring at the bird, before standing up. "I hate these stupid birds. They think they know everything, but I'm not going to be sad or have a secret or gold, or anything."_

_"I need to stay with Cara."_

_"Well, then, wake up, silly!" She said, giggling. She began shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"_

_They weren't sitting on the marble steps anymore, the girl wasn't even there, he was standing in a rattling train car, holding onto a shield as he shot at someone, but then he was holding onto something as snow fell around him, a deep gorge below him, and his hands were so cold as he clung to the metal, the wind biting his face, and there was Steve Rogers, looking at him, reaching for him, trying to save him._

_"Bucky!"_

_But it was too late, and he was falling._

Bucky jolted awake, breathing heavily, still feeling his stomach dropping. He ran his hand over his face, sitting up. He was in bed next to Cara, who was still asleep beside him. He was still holding her hand. Carefully, he let go, and slid out of bed, walking to her bathroom. He could still hear the wind howling, the freezing air rushing past him. He could only be thankful that he didn't remember ever landing after the fall.

As he turned on the light, and ran his hands through the water of the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked paler, features slightly more gaunt, although he supposed that that was because of the "encephalitis", or whatever had made his brain act up.

"I woke up," he said quietly. "It was just a dream, it's over."

He shook his head, thinking about the night before. He had told Cara he loved her. She had been asleep, she hadn't heard him, but it was true. He hoped. He had no other memories of other relationships to judge this against. All he knew was that when he saw her, ever since she had punched that asshole at the restaurant, since she came back to the apartment bruised and beaten, when she cared for him during those few blurred days, he admired and respected her, missed her when she wasn't around, wanted nothing more than for her to be around her, for her to be happy, and safe. And when he had seen HYDRA agent, pinning her to the ground while she bled, the same people who had destroyed his life, and he had been so scared, more scared than he could remember being. And he had been angry, and it had hurt so bad. That was love, wasn't it?

He hoped so.

His train of thought ended, when he heard Cara's voice. He looked out, seeing her murmuring in her sleep.

"Bucky," she was whispering. "Where's Bucky? Bucky, I want Bucky."

He immediately walked back. "Hey," he said, gently touching her shoulder. "Hey. Cara, wake up."

She shifted, turning away from him, saying something he didn't catch, before murmuring, "I want to go home, I want Bucky."

"Cara, you're _are_ home, and I'm right here."

"Let me go," she said, and he saw her grow more and more anxious, her voice rising.

"Hey, hey-"

"No!"

He shook her slightly. "Cara!"

"I'm not going back!" She was speaking quickly, hands twisting in the blankets. "Please, no!"

"Cara, wake up!"

She sat up suddenly, gasping for air, looking panicked and terrified. He sat up with her, jumping in front of her.

"Cara!" He said. She lashed out, and he caught her fist easily before it hit him in the face. He caught her wrists. "You're awake, you're okay!"

"Stay away from me!"

"Cara, please, please, it's me! It's Bucky! You're safe, I promise, you're safe!"

"Please, please, no!" She said, trying to reel away from him. "No!"

"Cara. Cara. It's Bucky. It's me. I'm not going to hurt you. It's me. I promise, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Stop, stop! Please, stop, let me go! I want to go home! Where's Bucky? What did you do to Bucky?"

"You _are _home. I'm here. I'm right here. You're safe, it was just a dream, I promise. Cara, you're awake."

"Where am I?"

"Safe. You're safe."

She paused, staring at him, and recognition dawned in her eyes. "Bucky?"

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. She stopped fighting, body still tense. Her hands were balled into fists against his chest. She was shaking violently.

"It's me. It's Bucky. It's me, and you're safe. I promise."

"Bucky," she breathed. "Don't let him take me. Please, don't let him take me back there!"

He paused. If she told him now, he wouldn't have to ask her later. He would know who he was up against.

"Who?"

"Please. Please."

"I won't let anything happen to you again. Who, Cara?"

"I can't go back. I can't go back."

"Go where?"

"The gray building. Don't let him take me back."

He looked down at her. "Who are you scared of?"

"The man, the man, the Deathless. Beloved. Ashes to ashes. Bucky, he escaped. He wants to take me away."

"I won't let that happen," he said quietly, resting his forehead on hers, gently cradling her face. "But I need to know who is scaring you. I can't help if I don't know who I need to go after."

"He's still out there," she said. "I can still hear him." She reached up, covering her ears.

"Shh, Cara," he said, pushing her hair back, from her skin which seemed too hot. "Shh. I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you. But I need to know who I should go after."

She shook her head, hands dropping in her lap. "It's a secret," she said. "Never to be told. I can't go back. I can't."

"You won't. We're running, remember? You're going to be safe, we're going to be safe."

She was shivering. "Don't leave me," she said. Her voice broke slightly. "No matter what you learn, please don't hate me."

He stared at her, remembering . "You're Cara Fox. I could never hate Cara Fox."

She buried her face in her hands. "You could never hate Cara Fox..." She murmured. "Cara Fox, _Cara Fox._" She began to laugh hysterically.

"Hey," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Shh. Everything's okay. Let's go back to sleep."

"You're not leaving...?"

"Not unless you want me too."

She shook her head, leaning against his chest, as he gently pulled her down with him. He

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked.

"No," she said. "Not now."

"Okay."

She looked up at him, silently taking in his features like she was memorizing his face. He gave her a half smile. She still looked shaken, terrified. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help her, so he just began talking, letting the words tumble from his mouth almost as fast as he could process them.

"You know, I used to work for the mob."

"What?" She said. She blinked at him, looking simultaneously worried and confused. But not scared.

"Not like a hit man or anything. I just ran envelopes every now and then to this old speakeasy in a dingy back alley. It got me a few pennies, money that we needed, and was pretty easy. But me being me, a stupid eleven year old, it ended after I flirted with one of the molls. Seven years my senior, mind you, and she thought I was a cute kid and humored me, but it wasn't like I had a chance. Still pissed them off enough to chase me out. Probably a good thing, seeing as the police raided it within a week, and a few people died, and few were arrested."

"I didn't hear about this," she said.

"You wouldn't have."

"That girl okay? The one you liked?"

"Yeah. I think so. Saw her a few times after that, and I think she left the mob behind. Nice girl."

She nodded. "I love your stories," she said, looking like she was thinking about something else.

"I tell you if I remember anymore good ones. Like the time me and my friend Steve filled this one cop's hubcaps with rocks after he chased us out of the parks for playing stick ball after they closed. Like making it so they rattled a bunch. He'd drive a few feet and get out and wonder what was making all the noise, and me and Steve, the little shits we were, would gather up the other neighborhood kids to watch. And then he would chase us off, and we'd go back to playing in the park while he tried to figure out what the hell we did to his car."

"You sound like an adorable juvenile delinquent."

He shrugged. "That was a long time ago. Probably less adorable back then, scaring my mother half to death," he trailed off. He didn't want to think about his family right now. They were gone, they were gone thinking he had died in the war. He _couldn't _think about them right now. "What about you? Any childhood stories?"

"I... I had an unusual childhood experience."

"How so?"

"Didn't ever meet any kids my age until I was eight, when I started school, so I was a bit... Strange. Didn't know how to read either, so the other kids made fun of me. Joke was on them, I picked it up within a month. By the next month, I was learning to read in other languages. But those kids _hated _me, made my life miserable. So one day, when the teacher was out of the class, I barricaded myself behind her desk with a slingshot and a few hundred packets of gum, and waged war on them. I got into... Some trouble after that."

"You were also a little juvenile delinquent, weren't you?"

She nodded, falling silent, and then the smile fell off her face, as she thought about something, a memory that was not his, a memory that he did not ask could keep her secrets, even if it killed him not knowing what they were, just as long as he could keep his.

He kissed the top of her head. "Night, sweetheart."

She shut her eyes, not answering him, instead turning on her side, pulling him so he was curled around her. He let his lips meet where the space between her shoulder and neck, breathing her in as she found his hand, holding onto it. The rough gauze wrapped around her palm scratched against his skin, and he hoped that she wasn't too uncomfortable with his metal arm around her waist, knowing it was heavier, and colder than a normal one. He also hoped she couldn't feel exactly how hard and fast his heart was beating.

After a few minutes, she relaxed slightly. A few more after that, her breathing deepened, and soon she had fallen asleep, in his arms. For an insane moment, he wondered what it would be like to hold her like this every night, keeping her her safe, her body warm and alive next to him, heart beating. And he realized how much he wanted this to be his life. Far away from anyone who wanted to hurt them. Just him, Bucky Barnes, and some woman named Cara who had been crazy enough to give him a ride.

That HYDRA agent was right though. He was a killer. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve this, any of it, and the words kept echoing in his mind.

But he didn't care about that now. He'd think about it in the morning. Her hand tightened on his, her breathing becoming shallower, and he thought for a moment that she was going to wake up. He pulled her closer, holding her tighter, and she kept on sleeping. He was with Cara Fox, and he sure as hell wasn't going to abandon her now.

Not now, not ever.

**A/N: **This is a little bit fillerish, but I have things planned for the future... And I've had about half of this written for months now and I really, really wanted to use it, heh heh, even if it might be redundant later. This is shorter than I wanted, and there is some more that I cut out so that I could get this updated sort of quickly.

Bucky's stories are inspired by some things my grandparents got up to back when they were young. And those aren't even the most interesting ones. I like to think that Bucky and Steve got into all sort of trouble when they were kids.

And also I'll be going back and cleaning up the previous chapters. I've been slowly making them on Wattpad when I catch them, and will be transferring them over here when I get the chance :). Thank you again for reading, and for feedback and all that. ^_^


	27. Winter Was Over

There is something unsettling waking up the morning after a nightmare. The air seems too still, too quiet. As Cara woke up disoriented and alone, she was well aware of the feeling. She remembered Bucky's gentle embrace, and she remembered what she had been dreaming about. Sitting up slowly, she looked around, trying to figure out where he was. Listening, she caught gentle sounds of movement coming from the kitchen.

Getting up, she walked into the bathroom, deciding it would be best if she rinsed off, feeling like the blood and sweat and dirt from the day before was clinging to her skin.

As she stripped off her clothes, she looked into the mirror, she touched the shallow bullet hole on her chest, remembering how helpless and vulnerable she had felt when she had to wait for Bucky to come and save her, when she watch Bucky be beaten next her, when he left to kill the HYDRA scum that did this to her. She hated the fact that he had had to be the one to pull the trigger. She hated the fact that she herself was a cold-hearted killer who wanted to have done it herself. Stepping under the water, she let it beat down on her, as she shut her eyes. She hated this life. She hated that she had nightmares. She hated being afraid all the time. All she wanted was to be with Bucky, not terrified of what would happen to him, of what they would do to him. All she had now was Bucky, her mission, her friend, her Soldier. And they were trying to take him away.

She hated this.

She leaned against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself. She wanted to talk to Bucky about her nightmare, where she had been walking with Bucky and he had been in his old uniform, and he had been saying words that weren't his, but then he was gone, and she was alone, in a dark room, back as a child while pain burned through her bones, through her veins, and all she could think of was how he had been with her, and then he was gone.

She wanted to tell him that even through the pain of the memory, her fear for him was still there. She wanted him to reassure her that he was fine, she was fine, they were fine, knowing what they were up against. She wanted to tell him about who she was, about the Deathless, about SHIELD, but he would never forgive her for lying to him. The guilt flared up in her chest.

She was going to have to tell him eventually, or this would kill her, she was sure of it.

That is, if he didn't figure it out first.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped wallowing in self pity, and washed up quickly, stepping out of the shower, carefully avoiding the gaze of her reflection in the mirror. Getting dressed (stiffly. Her muscles still ached dully, although the heat of the water had helped), she wandered out to find Bucky.

He was in the kitchen, as she thought, but there were currently two plates of food on the table, and smoke pouring out of a pan, as Bucky muttered incoherently under his breath and throwing it into the sink with a loud crash. Cara couldn't contain the small laugh that escaped her lips. His head snapped up, immediately softening when he saw her, although he looked mildly embarrassed.

"I, uh, tried to make breakfast for you," he said, turning away. "It was going well... until you came out."

She laughed, walking to his side, and his face turned redder. She stood up on her toes, and kissing his cheek. He blinked in surprise.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem," he muttered, looking at the ground. He stepped back, sitting down. She sat down next to him, looking at what he made. It was scrambled eggs, although half of it was burnt, and half of it was runny.

"We... We were poor when I was younger. Didn't have enough money for eggs, so I never really learned how to cook them right. And I haven't had time to practice in a while."

She grinned at him. "Still better than me," she said. "At least there were no actual flames. Just smoke."

He chuckled. "That's true."

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

"Thank you, really, Bucky, for everything," she said. "But you know what you're going to have to help me with after this?"

"What?"

"Dishes."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

* * *

Cara hummed quietly as she worked next to him (Bucky didn't recognize the song), water running over their hands as they scrubbed dishes. They had built up over the past few days. This felt so domestic, and trivial, and wonderful, he couldn't be more thankful.

"What are you singing?" He asked, unable to keep the genuine curiosity out of his voice. He wanted to know everything music. He had missed a lot, and he was pretty sure that he had liked music back then too.

She shrugged. "To be honest, I don't really know. Just something I heard on the radio. Music isn't really my thing."

"Never had time for it?"

"Not before this, no," she said. "You?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know how it's defined now. Swing. Jazz. Blues. Old folk songs."

He took one of the plates out of her hands. Their fingers brushed. It made sparks run up and down his arm, even though their were no circuits in it.

"You remember any?"

"Not off the top of my head, no."

"Tell me if you think of any," she said. "I'm trying to see what I've been missing."

"Me too," he said.

She went back to humming, and Bucky contented himself with simply listening to her. He picked up a teacup, looking at the pale blue designs on the surface. They were small blue flowers, and just like that, he was in a memory. Or rather, two memories, juxtaposed.

_He stood by a windowsill, looking at the small petals sitting in the box outside the pain._

**_He was walking through dark woods, rifle in hand, and it was deathly silent as snow fell around them._**

**He was sitting in a room full of people, and he was hurting.**

_"Bucky," a small voice said. "What are you looking at?"_

**_"Buck," another voice said. "See anything?"_**

**"The Asset completed his mission with minimal damage," said yet somebody else, and it was not speaking to him.**

_"The flowers are awake, Rebecca," he said, lifting up his younger sister so that she could look outside. She laughed in delight._

**_"Nothing," he said, speaking into his radio. "Dead quiet out here."_**

**"Good. Repair his injuries, wipe him, and freeze him."**

_"Why are they awake?" Rebecca asked._

**_Creeping forward, he saw a silhouette in the distance, and recognized the glint of a HYDRA mask. Taking aim, he fired quickly, the sound shattering the silence around him. Several birds took off._**

**Bucky wanted to shake his head, to say no, he didn't want to go back in, but he was focusing on the gaping bullet wound in his leg. The pain felt unreal. It hurt, a lot, but it felt like it wasn't happening to him.**

_"Because winter's over," he said, grinning. "It's spring now, so there are flowers again."_

**_As he looked around, he caught sight of a few pale flowers glinting through the snow. Winter was ending._**

**One of the people was wearing a tie with flowers on it. The speaker was smiling, but Bucky, some part of him at least, saw past the flash and charm, and what he saw terrified him.**

**"Welcome home, Winter Soldier."**

Bucky blinked, the teacup falling from his hand. He watched almost in slow motion as it landed on the ground, shattering. He stepped back, blinking and shaking his head.

"Bucky?" Cara said in alarm.

"No, no, no," Bucky said. "That wasn't home. She's gone now, isn't she? That was days before I died."

"Bucky," Cara said, taking a tentative step forward.

"Stay away from me!" he said, harsher than he meant to, and she stopped. He was still with it enough to realize that she looked stricken with her helplessness. "My little sister is gone, and I died, they all thought I died, my family, but I was there. That wasn't home. Home was here, with you, or with them. My family."

"Hey," she said. "Hey, Bucky-"

His leg pulsed painfully, as he took another step back. "I don't belong here. I need to go back. You don't understand, my parents are gone. They need my help, they need me!"

He shut his eyes. He had four younger siblings. He was the oldest. His parents were dead. They needed his help.

"Bucky, it's okay," Cara was saying. "Bucky, listen to me. It's okay."

He looked up at her. "Winter was supposed to be ending, but it had only just begun."

"Bucky, you remember where you are?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Your apartment. New York, New York. United States."

"What year is it?"

"2014."

"Month?"

"May."

"Your name?"

"Bucky." His voice was shaking, and he hated it. He focused on keeping his breathing even.

"My name?"

"Cara."

"Good."

He fell silent, staring at her. She was steady, calm, like a lighthouse in a storm. She was always there when this happened to him. His constant. He didn't know know what he would do without her, and right now he could almost forget that she was that need him last night. He could almost forget about the pleas she had made in her sleep.

_What a pair we make,_ he thought sardonically.

Cara watched him, analyzing his face, before kneeling down, picking up the pieces. He wanted to help her, but all he could think about were those three memories.

"Sorry," he said, and he began backing up. "I don't... I don't know what that was."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I broke that mug, remember? We break things. We're human. No matter what, Bucky. Remember that you're human. It'll keep you alive."

He nodded mutely. She stood up, cradling the pieces in her hands.

"Can we fix it?" He said.

"Probably not," she said.

"I'll try," he said. He tried to take the pieces from her. His hands were shaking. She gave him a look, putting the fragments on the counter, and reaching out, taking his hands, stilling the trembling. He stared at the ground.

"Look at me," she said, and it was an order. He knew orders when he heard them. He followed it. Her gaze was calm. "Listen to me. Breath. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, pulling away. It was a lie, and they both knew it. He changed the subject, needing to lock away the emotions that were raging inside his skull. He needed to be cold and analytical. He _needed _to be the Winter Soldier right now, not Bucky. "You need to go to work today. They'll have noticed you stopped going. Tell your boss you've been sick, and your schedule has been and will continue to be hectic. Don't tell her you're quitting."

"After a few days, I might be reported missing," she pointing out, not questioning the change in conversation.

"Thousands of people go missing every year," he said, not looking at her. "You'll just be another face, another statistic."

"And you?"

"No one is going to do that for me."

_They would have_. _Back then. _

She nodded, crossing her arms, and looking at him hesitantly. "Bucky?" She started. He looked up at her.

"Yes?"

"I'm... I'm afraid."

He gave her a weak smile. "Me too."

He reached for her hand, gaze dropping back to the ground. She took it, and they stood there in silence, until there was a knock on the door. Bucky jumped, glancing quickly at Cara, who gave him an emotionless look. He was starting to see that she did that whenever she was feeling something she didn't want to.

"Stay here," he said, cutting her off when she tried to argue. "It's probably nothing."

The knock sounded again.

He walked over to the door, footsteps silent. He opened it slowly, keeping his foot in front of the door.

It was someone dressed in a police uniform. Bucky eyed him suspiciously, mentally running through all the possibilities of who this man really was. HYDRA, bounty hunter, ex-SHIELD, etcetera. None of them were pleasant.

"Yes?" He said slowly.

"Several people in the building have reported falling unconscious, so we're going to have to evacuate the building temporarily while we investigate."

Bucky nodded, glancing back to where she was waiting. "We'll be out in a moment."

He turned back, walking back to find Cara. She hadn't moved.

"They're evacuating the building while they try to figure out what made everyone pass out," he said quietly.

"They're not going to find anything," she said, but she was walking towards him. "Right, I have to go out in public. Do I look like I lost a fight with a crazy guy?"

He looked at her critically, taking in her bruised face, split lip, and cut hand, before deciding on the honest answer. "Yes."

"Thanks," she said dryly, and he gave her smirk, taking his jacket off the back of a chair, and putting it on her shoulders, like he did before, in the rain. His hands lingered on her for a single moment longer than necessary, but luckily she didn't seem to notice.

"Here," he said. "That might make it less conspicuous."

"Thank you," she said, putting it on, and pulling up the hood so it shadowed her face, hiding the worst of the bruises. "Better?"

He nodded, taking her hand, and together they walked out the door. There were sirens, and police, and their neighbors, and worst of all reporters and photographers. He turned away from them, as Cara lead him down the street, until they stood in the shadows of a narrow alley, where they could observe what was happening. She leaned against the wall, and he stood next to her, keeping his head down, and blocking her from where the camera's were flashing.

"It must be a slow news day if something like this is getting attention," she said quietly. "Imagine the title of the article. 'Everyone In Building Falls Asleep At Same Time. Authorities Mildly Confused'."

"Someone's going to latch onto it, think it's a giant conspiracy," he said.

"Well, they wouldn't be that far off."

"No, no they wouldn't," Bucky murmured. An agent from an evil, secret branch of the biggest defense program on the planet made an entire building fall asleep in order to reach a supersoldier who once was a friend of Captain America, but was kidnapped by the Nazis and Russians, and made into a brainwashed assassin with a metal arm. It did sound a little bit like a conspiracy theory. An especially insane one... that happened to be his life.

"What do you think they'll find?"

"Nothing. Trust me, they won't find anything of interest, and if they do, someone will find a way to shut them up."

His eyes darted over to the police.

He looked down at her, where she was smiling, her split lip glaring up at him accusingly. He gently ran his thumb over it, making her blink in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You said that before, Bucky, and you don't need to be. You didn't do this."

"I still am," he said, his hand falling away. "And I feel like I got you into this. I'm sorry."

"You didn't get me into this, and even if you did, I wouldn't change it. I want to be with you Bucky, no matter what."

"You wouldn't say that-"

"Shush," she said, not unkindly, giving him a gentle smile. "I know what I would say. I want to be with you."

A sudden camera flash directly behind them made him jump. He spun around. A kid, looking like he was in high school, stood with a camera.

"Wow, that's perfect," he said. "It's for the newspaper."

Bucky felt his face become dark. "What?"

"I work for the newspaper," he said. "I'm a photographer. This might be on the front page if there's no superheroes out this weekend."

Bucky imagined his and Cara's face on a newspaper, a beacon guiding who knows what here. He reached forward, grabbing the camera and throwing it on the ground. It shattered.

"Hey!" The kid said.

"Bucky!" Cara said, at the same time. She pushed past him, kneeling next to the kid as he looked at the broken pieces. Bucky felt a twinge of regret. "He doesn't like his picture taken. I can pay you back. You said you worked for the newspaper."

"Yeah," the boy said. He looked simultaneously distraught and furious. It made Bucky feel worse.

"My wallet's upstairs, and I don't know when we'll be allowed back in. I'll send it to your newspaper. Which one is it?"

"Daily Bugle," he said, looking like he didn't really trust her to actually get him a new one.

"What's your name?"

"Peter. Peter Parker," he said.

"I'm sorry about your camera, Peter," she said, looking truly apologetic. "I hope you don't get in trouble for it."

She stood up, and walked back to Bucky, grabbing his hand, and taking him away. He was silent.

"What was that?" she hissed, when they were a good distance away. He shook his head mutely. "I know you're worried about someone finding us, but you didn't have to smash his camera."

"I know," he muttered, not looking at her. This made him feel worse. He had broken a kid's camera. She glanced at him, sighing deeply.

"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to snap. I know you were just taking care of us, and I know you feel bad."

"It doesn't matter," he said. She fell silent, leaning in closer to him. The city buzzed and roared around them, as the. stepped out onto a particularly crowded street. While he hated the sheer amount of people and variables, the simple anonymity of being a face in a crowd comforted him in some bizarre way. No one knew about his past, and now one looked at him as more than a stranger. He was beginning to think that having an actual identity was much more dangerous than anyone let on.

"Hey," Cara said. "You said you lived here? Before, when you were a kid?"

"Yeah... In Brooklyn."

"Before I go see if I've finally been fired, we can go see where you grew up. I mean, only if you want to."

He paused. Did he really want to see where he had spent his childhood, where his family, those faceless shadows from his memories, lived, and possibly died? Would it be paying his respects, or would it insult to their memory, to walk there as James Buchanan Barnes, when he was just a ghost of that man?

"Okay," he said quietly, and although he was only going to go see his old neighborhood, it felt like he was agreeing to more.

And he was.

After years and years, Bucky Barnes was going home.

A/N: Wow. Sorry for the wait guys. I started my senior year of high school, and I had to do a lot to get ready for it. It took me listening to the entire MTV Unplugged Nirvana concert to crank this out (I mean, I totally would have done that anyways, but man, this was intense to write for some reason).

Choose your favorite song of the moment. That's what Cara was humming (aka, I can't choose, so many good ones, you do it).

Charlie Boy by the Lumineers captures the essence of this chapter. I think. Different war. Same sadness.

Sort of a Hannibal reference there. A very bitter, methaphory, "not really reference at all" Hannibal reference.


	28. Those He Failed

**A/N:** _What Went Down_ by the Foals

Bucky stared up at the fire escape for a moment before jumping up and grabbing the bottom rung of the ladder, pulling it down. Scaling it with ease, he paused to slide on of his knives under the window frame, unlocking it. It was worryingly easy, he thought as he slid through the window into the kitchen. They were lucky they hadn't been attacked before.

He had just made his decision to go back to his old neighborhood when both him and Cara remembered that all their money was up stairs, and Bucky had volunteered to sneak in, promising no one would see him. She was still waiting in the alley, and he could see her form here, occasionally smirking up at him. He returned the look with a small wave and a grin, before disappearing into the other room. He found her bag tossed beside the door, and picked it up, making his way into his room. Kneeling next to the bed, he pulled out a box.

Weeks ago, before he had gone with Cara, he had set up several false bank accounts, hiding away all the money he had taken from HYDRA, so that he could use it later. He had access to them now, and after he did whatever he was going to do today, he'd start making withdrawals. They were leaving. If he could convince Cara, they would only come back here once, to get some things, and then they'd fade away, into the shadows. They were running away together, and some part of of him, some long buried and forgotten part, was giddily excited by the prospect. The rest of him was fighting to keep all emotion out of the way, trying to coldly plan out exactly how they were going to survive this. He put a few blank passports into his pocket, along with one of the debit cards connected to the one of the accounts. Standing up, he kicked the box back under the bed, and walked towards the window. Slipping out onto the fire escape again, he quickly and silently descended the stairs, and dropped to the ground.

Cara wasn't paying attention as he approached her, her eyes on the street. She didn't noticed he was there until he put his hand on her back.

"Hey," he said. She jumped, looking up at him.

"Christ, Bucky, don't do that!" she hissed, smacking his arm. He gave a soft laugh, handing her her bag. She glared at him as she snatched it from his hands. "Nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," he said, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. Her face softened, and she rolled her eyes.

"You're a jerk," she said, but he could tell she wasn't angry with him.

"And you're the apple of my eye, sweetheart," he said. She shook her head.

"Flattery won't save you, Barnes," she said, but she was trying not to smile. "C'mon then." She took off quickly down the street, and he followed close behind her, eyes and thoughts drifting between her and anyone that passed them.

She was beautiful. He didn't like how that person looked at her, eyes lingering too long in a leer. Her hair was really, really pretty in this light, especially when she brushed it behind her ear like that, finges lingering there. That man was carrying a gun, hidden under his jacket. He could see her chest and ribs rising and falling with each breath, even under his jacket. Which looked remarkably good on her. That woman to their right kept checking nervously over her shoulder, like she was being followed. The child that ran past him on his left had a bruise under his eye, and was being chased by three much larger ones that were yelling threats.

"Hey!" Bucky said, catching one by the shoulder. Cara glanced back at him. "You fighting him?"

"None of your business, mister," the kid snapped.

"Yeah, it is. He's what, a head shorter than you? And there's three of you? Leave him alone."

The kid glowered at him, before stalking off, his two friends trailing behind him. He glanced back at the smaller boy. He was thin and short, with sandy colored hair and serious eyes. He reminded Bucky of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who.

"You alright, kid?"

The boy nodded mutely.

"Next time they hit you, hit 'em back," Bucky said. "They won't be expecting it." He turned back to Cara, who was giving him a strange look. She was smiling slightly, staring at him with a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite identify.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said, but the expression remained.

"I don't like bullies," he said, feeling like he owed her an explanation. "Never have."

"I know," she said, and she fell into step next to him, occasionally sneaking a glance at him, eyes darting quickly away whenever they met his. She bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh, watching the ground. His heart swelled in his chest.

She was beautiful. He loved her. He was _in_ love with her. And while he knew it was only a dream, just him playing pretend, he wanted to be with her in every way possible. He wanted her to love him like this.

She stopped suddenly, making him nearly run into her as she attempted to hail a cab. Several passed before one slowed down, stopping next to them. Bucky stepped in front of Cara, opening the door for her, as some part of him deep within his mind told him that it was the proper thing to do. She flashed a smile at him that made his heart stop beating.

He got in, and found himself pressed close to her. He wasn't sure if she was aware of it or not. He certainly was, with what felt like electric shocks running through his metal arm settling at his shoulder. He was sure that it had something to do with nerves and nerve endings, but he didn't quite care.

"Where to?" the driver said. Cara looked at him expectantly. He felt frozen, no words coming to him. He was suddenly felt extremely nervous, stomach twisting, hands clenching. He had no idea where exactly his old home was, not exactly. After a moment that felt like it took forever, he managed to sputter out some sort of coherent reply.

"George Washington High School," he said. It was the name of his old school, where he and Steve went. He remembered reading it on the wall at the Smithsonian. Cara reached over, gently touching his arm. She was silent. He stared down at her hand, pale and wrapped in white gauze, and his chest hurt. That was because of him. He looked up, meeting her gaze, and saw her observing him. Her cool green eyes blinked and a small, worried smile pulled at her lips.

"You alright?" she murmured.

"I will be," he said, just as quietly. She nodded, looking back towards the front, although her hand didn't move from the crook of his arm. He turned towards the window slightly, watching the buildings flash by, along with other cabs, and cars. He looked at the crowds of people, where children ran by, laughing, men and women in suits talked agitatedly on phones, young students carried backpacks. One couple were embracing passionately on the street. One of them had red hair like Cara. He imagine, for a moment, only a single, impossible moment, that that was them, that they were together just like he had been dreaming about earlier.

_"You will never be good enough for her."_

The HYDRA agent's words echoed in his mind, and he looked sharply away. Her hand tightened on his arm, sliding down into his hand, and lacing their fingers together.

_"You are nothing but a killer."_

He shut his eyes, desperately trying to think of anything else, failing miserably.

_"A monster."_

"No," he whispered. Cara squeezed his hand, and he leaned into her.

"Hey," she said. "James?"

"I'm alright, Fox. Really. Don't worry about me," he said shakily, sending her a weak, lopsided smile. She returned it hesitantly, and then the cab was slowing down. He blinked. He didn't remember being in here for that long.

Bucky got out, and Cara followed him quickly. His eyes drifted over the building, unused as a school now for a while, before they landed on a plaque. He walked up to it.

_In Memory of Steve Rogers, and James Buchanan Barnes._

He ran his hand, fingers trembling, over the lettering of his name, while Cara stood a good distance away, as if unsure whether to approach him. That was good. He didn't want her to see that. He turned sharply away from it.

"This way," he said, nodding to the left. It was more instinct than memory. He wasn't even sure if it was right. She nodded, falling into step beside him.

The buildings were unfamiliar and Bucky was sure that wasn't just because of his...amnesia. The world had changed as much as he had. Walking here felt different than it had this morning. It felt like he was in a daze.

Then he saw something that snapped him out of it.

He froze. It was a graveyard, the graveyard he had come to weeks ago, settled behind tall iron gates tightly wound with ivy. He pushed it open, the metal creaking loudly as he walked silently in. It was a fairly small cemetery, nestled between two smaller apartment buildings that looked like they had been there since before the Depression. The stones were cracked and old, but he could still make out the names for the most part. The newest was from the late fifties. The closer in he got, the older they dated. In the distance, he saw one that read Sarah Rogers. He stared at it. He had been here before at her funeral. He had felt sad then, and he felt sad now. She had been nice. She had treated him like her own son. There were flowers on it, wilted but relatively new.

The next ones he found made him feel even worse. One was his own. The other three... They belonged to his parents, and one of his sisters. His father had died while training, he knew that. His mother had died mere weeks after his supposed death. That made his heart twist painfully with grief and guilt, and tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to fall. And his sister, she was the youngest. The baby. She was only 16 according to her tombstone, less than a year after him. The rest of his family... He had no idea where they were. If they were even still alive.

_"-And you'll be back soon, right, Bucky?" his sister asked, as she threw her arms around him. There were people everywhere, saying goodbye loudly, crying, waving, begging for their boys to come home safe and sound. _

_"Of course. You got a birthday coming up. Wouldn't miss that for the world."_

_"Bring me back something. Like a bullet. A German bullet."_

_"The only way I'm bringing one of those home with me is if I'm shot with it."_

_"Alright, now, let your brother go," his mother said, looking a little pale at the thought of him being shot. His younger sister reluctantly let go of him. "He has a war to win."_

_"Yes, I do," he said, grinning to hide the fact that he was terrified, and swinging his bag up onto his shoulder and walking off with a merry salute. "I'll see you both soon, I promise." _

_Their tear streaked faces would haunt him for a long time, until that memory was forcibly taken away from him. _

_I promise. _

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He spun around to see Cara standing there. He felt a surge of irrational anger. He didn't want her _here_. He didn't want her to see him like this. He ripped violently away from her, tears still threatening to fall. He regretted it slightly when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and saw the hurt on her face. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, it wasn't her, he was in pain, physically in pain. He hated this. Maybe these memories should have stayed hidden, kept far away. Maybe there was a reason he hadn't fought that hard to keep them. Maybe he knew that remembering would only bring this.

"Hey," she whispered.

"I can't- I... Not now, Cara."

She nodded slowly, backing away, looking like she was trying to understand him, but looking hurt none the less.

"You want to be alone?" she murmured.

He hesitated. He didn't want _her_ to be alone. He didn't want her to be out here without him. But selfishly, he wanted her to leave. He wanted to mourn in private. So he nodded, turning away, fighting down the fear that had been lingering in the back of his mind.

"Alright. I'm going to go talk to Mavis."

"Call me if anything happens," he said, still not looking at her, guilty now for turning her away like this.

"Okay," she said. "You too. Anything, you hear me?"

He nodded again.

"I'll see you soon."

He heard her footsteps begin to recede until they were gone completely. He knelt in front of his own tombstone, or maybe he fell to his knees.

This was too much.

Some part of him was thinking that it would have been better if he had really died after the fall, his body lying under the soft dirt and leaves, instead of up here in the poison filth and rot of this world. At least then HYDRA wouldn't have their weapon. He would have died as Bucky, and only Bucky... Unless Bucky, that Bucky at least, was already gone, long gone. He bowed his head, loosing track of how long he sat there.

It might have been minutes, or hours, or days.

He didn't know.

If Bucky had died, who was he? Did he have a right to this name, this identity?

He had to. If he didn't have this... He had nothing. He was nothing.

"Damn you," he whispered. "Goddamn you. Goddamn it all." He wasn't sure who he was talking to.

"Your mother would disapprove of such language," a voice said. "Her own son, speaking on her grave like that."

His head snapped up. It was the man from the store who knew Cara. He was sitting on the grave, looking bored. Bucky clenched his fists, standing up slowly, though the man held up his hands in surrender.

"At ease, Soldier. I just want to talk. Have you been thinking about what I said?"

Bucky didn't answer.

"I told you a fairy tale. Do you want to hear another one? It's still Russian."

"What do you want?" Bucky said.

"I want to tell you a story. There once was a man who could not die. They called him many things. Koschei, the Immortal, the Deathless. He was the most powerful man in the land, controlling life and death. He created a child, born not of nature or of science, or magic, and she was his beloved. But tragedy struck, and she was stolen from him, and he was caged by lesser beings. A young foolish man, a soldier or a prince depending on who you ask, made a fatal mistake, and fell in love with the girl. And the Deathless followed him, and when the prince tried to stop him from taking what was his, the Deathless slaughtered him."

There was that word again. The Deathless. The one that haunted Cara's nightmares.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I can see now why you weren't the one giving the orders," the man said, checking his watch. "It's a warning. Or a threat. Whichever you want it to be. The moral is, do not keep what is ours from us."

"Cara," Bucky said, and it came out as more as a growl.

"Yes. You have it. HYDRA has failed to secure any results. We have a code, but the Deathless grows impatient. Stay out of our way, Soldier, and you will not be harmed." The man stood up.

"She's not yours," Bucky said. "She's a person. She's her own, and I won't let you take her. I won't let you take her back there."

"Then we will kill you. It may damage our relationship with HYDRA, but is for the best."

"You underestimate me."

"No," the man sighed. "I've been distracting you. Goodbye, Soldier. I do hope you take my advice. If you do, this will be the last time we speak."

A shrill ringing made him jump. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Cara's name glared accusingly back at him.

_Call me if anything happens._

_I mean it._

_Anything._

That's what he had said. That was what she was doing. He looked up, and the man was gone.

He felt dizzy, like the earth was swaying beneath his feet. He made a mistake. He sent her away. Whatever happened to her, that was on him.

He knew he was panicking. He was knew that this could not end well for him if he went in with this many emotions. He didn't care. He had to get to her. He promised her that he wouldn't let them take her. He promised.

He promised. He promised so many things.

Bucky Barnes turned and ran from dead he failed, to the last thing he had left, hoping he wasn't too late.

Hoping he hadn't failed her too.

**A/N:** It's late, but this has been posted for about a year now! Happy birthday to this story. I might go back and rewrite a few of the older chapters, because I feel like I've grown as a writer since then, but if I do, I'll let you know. It won't be anything major, just making the style better.

It's been almost a month, and I'm so sorry about that. I've been having some personal issues that have been taking up a lot of my time and energy. But I'm back now, and the next chapter is almost finished, so it won't be a huge wait (there's even a surprise guest or two).

So I say there's about two or three more chapters in this arc, four at the most. Things are going to be revealed soon, and there will be consequences, both good and bad.

See you all soon! I hope you're still there, and thank you if you are.


	29. Up In Flames

**A/N:** Dark Doo Wop by MS MR

Cara stared at the door of his the book store, bracing herself silently. She had been reprimanded at work before, but never here, in the real world. She was incredibly nervous, hands balled into fists at her sides. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open.

Mavis was busy stacking books at the shelf beside the front desk. She looked when the bell rang, signaling Cara had entered, and paused, turning towards her with arms crossed.

Cara, resisting the urge to shrink away under her harsh stare, struggled with something to say. Mavis remained silent, and Cara would almost prefer it if she would just start yelling at her. There was setting her gaze that reminded her of the look Fury gave whenever she screwed up on an assignment, a cool sense of authority, and worse, a barely visible disappointment.

"Well," Mavis said finally. "Where have you been?"

"I..." she began. "I was with Bucky. He was sick."

Not a lie. Good. Tell the truth where you can.

"You didn't call in."

"I was distracted. He was really, really sick, ma'am," she said, wincing as she heard the last word slip out. If this was a real mission, and she had let something like that happen in front of a particularly observant target, it could blow her cover. It was a habit though. Habits were hard to break. "There... There were times I didn't think he was going to live."

Mavis shook her head. "What happened to your eye?" she said. "And hands... Is someone hurting you? Are you fighting?"

Cara sighed. "I keep messing with the wrong people."

"Listen, Cara," Mavis said. "You're a nice girl, but you stopped showing up to work for almost a week, no warning. That warrants getting fired."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," she said. "Bucky... Bucky got sick, really sick, and didn't think about anything other than him. I'm sorry."

The older woman sighed, running a hand through her short hair, as the bell on the door jangled, just as the phone on the front desk, and someone walked in. She glanced "Look, I'm not happy, but you're the only one here right now. Go help that gentleman over there. But there is a very good chance that you're losing your job after today."

Cara nodded, taking a step back, and looking at the man who just walked in. He was young, handsome, with dark red sunglasses on edge of his nose, and cane held in the crook of his arm.

"Hello," she said pleasantly. "What can I help you with today?"

"Hello," he said, flashing a small smile. "I was wondering if this bookstore has a Braille section. I've tried a few, but no luck. Said that I would have to order them."

"Well, you'll be pleased to hear we do," she said. He smiled, and held out his arm. "

"Do you think you could show me where?"

"Of course," she said. She took it, gently leading him through the maze of shelves. "I'm Cara, by the way."

"Matt."

"Nice to meet you, Matt."

"And you, Cara."

She stopped in front of the section in question. "Here we are," she said. "Need anything else?"

"No. No, I think I'm okay," he said, reaching out to brush his fingers over the backs of the books.

"Alright," she said. "I'll be over here if that changes."

He nodded, flashing a smile before turning his attention back the books. The bell on the door rang again. She walked back to the front of the store, before a gut feeling stopped her, and she paused behind the bookshelves. She could see where Mavis was just hanging up the phone between the spaces in the books. She could not see the newcomer, however, and she didn't dare move.

"Hello," Mavis said. "What can I help you with today?"

"I'm looking for something," a new voice said, male, possibly American, although there was a trace of an accent that she couldn't identify.

"Anything in particular?"

"A woman. Her name is Cara. I believe she works here."

"Well, she does. She's here now-"

"Good," the voice. "Thank you. That will be all." There was a sudden rustle of cloth, and then a sound that Cara did know, a bullet flying through the air, quieted by a silencer. Her hands clenched at her sides as she watched Mavis fall to the ground, heart beating faster. She took a step back. The newcomer blocked the main exit. She heard him reloading the weapon. That was not a way out at this point. There was a back exit, but she wasn't sure if she could get there without him noticing. And Matt, shit, she had a civilian in here with her. Her bag was by the desk . There was a handgun there. If she could get there, she might have a chance of killing him before he killed her. Her phone was there too. She could call Bucky. Bucky could help her. She remembered him grabbing her hands last time, telling her that she could have done that. He had looked disappointed that she didn't.

But, one part of brain thought, if this was HYDRA, it could be a trap. She couldn't let them get him again, not if she could take care of this herself. Calling him would be a last resort.

"Cara," the voice called out, dragging out her name in a singsong way. She heard his footsteps coming closer to her. "Cara, little Cara, come out now."

She took a few steps back silently, descending farther back into the maze shelves.

"Why are you hiding? Your father wants you to come home. you've had your fun here, but it's time to go home."

Her hands began to shake, and she felt sick, nauseated with shudders running up her spine. The voice seemed to echo from everywhere. She couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from.

"Come on out now, child."

It was right in front of her. She could see his suit through the books. She could see his abnormally pale hand, holding the gun. She could see his profile, shadowed by the light streaming in through the windows. If he turned, he would see her.

The man sighed. "I did not want to come to this, but we grow impatient. This building will burn. Everyone in it will die, except for you, if you do not come out now."  
She didn't move. She couldn't move.

He snapped his fingers. She glanced over, where one of the panels on the walls began smoking. She flinched, looking back at the man. He was staring straight at her. She jumped, taking another step back.

"You're going to let everyone here die?" he said. "Because you are being stubborn? You are _selfish_, aren't you?"

"Stay away from me," she said, and her voice was low, barely more than a whisper. "I'm not going back with you. Stay away from me."

The smoke began to get thicker. And she weighed her options. If she could get to her bag, she would have a chance of getting her and Matt out of here. Mavis too. The woman had to be alive. She hadn't seen where she had been shot. It didn't have to be a fatal wound. It didn't even have to be that. She'd get all three of them out of here alive.

She made her decision quickly, slamming into the bookshelf hard, so that it toppled forward onto him, and diving to the side. A bullet ripped past the air where she had been. She scrambled past the shelf, and to the desk, when she snatched up her phone, and the gun.

She wasted a moment weighing the options about calling Bucky. She wasn't sure she need him. She could possibly handle this all on her own. But, she should call for backup, even if she didn't end up needing it. She knew how to learn from her mistakes, even it took a few tries. But then again, this could be a trap. HYDRA had been working with the Deathless, and this could be an opportunity to grab them both. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she knew that he was with them again because of her. Besides, even if that didn't happen there was the chance Bucky might find out who she was. He would learn that she had been lying to him. He would hate her.

Her last thought confirmed the words the man had said to her. She was selfish. She wanted Bucky here. She was scared, and she wanted Bucky here. He made her feel braver.

She found his name, calling him. Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, she checked the gun, making sure it was loaded and ready. He picked up on the third ring.

"Cara, what's happening?" he said, and she could tell he already knew something was wrong.

"I need help," she said. "I'm at the bookstore. I need help."

"What is it?"

Her throat closed up, and she paused. She knew he noticed it. "Please, Bucky, just get over here-"

She broke off when something hit her head, and she fell to the ground, the phone and gun falling away from her. She fell to ground, the blow, making the world turn black for a moment, raising the gun, but it was knocked out of her hand as well. She could hear Bucky yelling over the phone. She caught her name, and tried to sit up. Almost immediately, she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. Touching the place where she had been hit, she winced, and looked at her hand. It came back red.

The books were now catching on fire. There was more smoke than before. She began to cough.

The man knelt down (he was holding some sort of metal rod. That's what hurt so bad, shit), and gingerly picked up the phone, like it was infected with something.

"Is this the Soldier?"

She heard Bucky yell something. She took the opportunity to ease herself towards the gun at her side.

"I apologize if Cara has wasted your time. Feel free to move on. You won't be seeing her again."

He hung up, just as her fingers brushed the handle of the gun.

"Don't do that, Cara," he said, sounding like a parent scolding a child. "Now, I'm going to be be taking you home. Your father misses you."

"That _monster_ is not my father," she snarled, and lifted the gun, firing immediately. Unfortunately, even the best marksmen will be off if the have a head injury, and it bullet only lodge itself in his arm. He regard the wound coolly.

"You little bitch," he said calmly, walking forward. She tried to aim again, but before she had the chance, someone else came out of nowhere, kicking the man sharply in the chest and easily breaking a few ribs. Snatching the iron bar from his hands, the person struck it up across his chin then head. They turned to her.

"Matt?" she said. He knelt next to her.

"You okay?" he said.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah. Thank you."

She rose to her feet, and swayed, nearly collapsing into him. Her head ached, and her vision swam. He kept a hand on her arm.

She looked back down at the gun in her hands. Carefully, she lifted it up, ignoring how her hands were shaking, and fired it once, twice, three times into the fallen man. One bullet hit the chest, one missed completely, and one hit his head. Matt stared at her, at least vaguely in her general direction, and she could see a flicker of horror on his face.

"He wasn't going to give up," she said, words tumbling out before she could stop him. "He... He wasn't going to give up. He wasn't going to leave me alone. I had to do it, I have other people I need to think about, there are other people I need to protect."

"Who was he?" Matt said.

"He worked for someone," she said. "A bad person."

She looked away, coughing again, flinching again as a piece from the ceiling fell, sending up sparks.

"We need to get Mavis," she said, voice shaking, taking a step in the direction of the crumpled woman.

"It's too late," Matt said, tilting his head slightly, as if listening to something.

"No, we have to get her out," she said.

"Cara, she's gone," he said, pulling her towards the door. "It's too late, I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do for her. She's gone. Come on."

Cara stared at the body, as one of the book shelves erupted in flames. She flinched, feeling the heat of the flames, even from this distance. Smoke filled the room. She took a step back, leaning into Matt as he helped her limp from the building. She turned back for a moment, watching the store being consumed by flames. Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees, bowing her head. An innocent woman was dead because of her. Because she she didn't know how to protect people.

There were sirens in the distance. She was aware of Matt standing behind her, and he was talking to someone, explaining what had happened. He left out the psychopathic killer, and while Cara was faintly curious as to why he did that, she couldn't really bring herself to care. Someone put there hand on her shoulder and she flinched, pulling away. She looked back up at the flames.

This was her attempt at a normal life, and it was literally going up in flames.

Her head felt like it was splitting down the middle. She wasn't sure if she could stay upright for much longer. Her bones ached with exhaustion. There was a dull feeling of numbness settling in her chest. She couldn't feel her hands. The sirens got closer. Maybe they were already here. Maybe they were already here. Nothing felt real right now.

It was all falling apart.

* * *

The ambulance lights flashed above her as she sat in the back, legs dangling off the edge, a paramedic saying something she couldn't quite catch. She had a mild concussion, and was apparently in a state of some sort of shock. She hadn't said anything. The blanket was rough around her shoulders. She stared out at the burning building, now mostly smoke and ash, watching police and firemen swarmed around the it. They had said that it was probably an electrical fire. She didn't correct them.

Matt was gone, after they had made sure he wasn't hurt, had been sent off to give his statement to the police. He had given her his business card, saying that he was a lawyer, and that if there was anything he could do to help, give him a call. She had nodded vacantly, wondering how a law firm was going to do her any good, but he was already gone.

She had managed to stammer out a few words of her own for a for her statement, but it was clear to everyone that she was shaken, and had a head injury, and they left her alone fairly quickly.

"Cara!" she heard someone shout. Her head snapped up. "Let me through! Cara!" Bucky was pushing through the crowds, running towards her. She stood up quickly, pushing away the paramedic, and talking a few steps forward. He met her before she could move far, as she threw her arms around him. He held her tightly.

"I got here as soon as I could," he said. He leaned back, taking her face in his hands. "Are you okay? Your head. You're bleeding."

"Concussion," she said. "I'm fine. That's it."

"What happened?"

"I-I-" she said, before shaking her head. She couldn't tell him what had happened. she couldn't let him know what had happened. She couldn't let him know. She hid her face in his shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "Hey. It's alright. You're alright. I'm here."

"She's dead," Cara said, her voice muffled. "Mavis is dead, and it's my fault. I couldn't save her."

"What?"

"There was someone," she said. "They were looking for me. They shot her. They burned down the bookstore. I panicked and called you."

_Tell him_.

_He can help you._

_You can fix this._

_Tell him who you really are._

"That wasn't your fault, sweetheart," he said. She began to laugh. It sounded wrong even to her.

"But she's still dead," she said. "And I could have stopped it."

"Hey, we'll talk about this later," he said, leaning back. He looked at her, thumb running over her cheek. "You're okay. That's the only thing that matters."

She stared at the ground, still shaking her head.

"Can we leave?" she said, voice cracking.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we can leave."

"I mean _leave_. For good. Not go back to the apartment. Start running now," she said. "Bucky, I can't do this anymore. I can't stay here anymore."

She looked up for him, and she saw a flash of guilt pass over his face. He was blaming himself for this. He thought this was because of him. He thought that she was leaving a life.

"Yeah," he said.

_Tell him_, the voice in the back of her head said. _Don't do this to him. Don't do this to yourself._ She ignored it.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her in the direction of a quieter area of the crowd. A few people gave her some strange looks, noticing that she was leaving the ambulance. One of the the paramedics called after her, telling her to wait. She ignored them. Bucky was more alert than her, and she trusted him to make sure they weren't followed. She couldn't focus now anyways. She had about enough brainpower to make sure that they were positioned so that anyone passing by would consider them a happy, normal couple out for a romantic walk (not that she exhausted and could barely stand, and that Bucky would probably have to start dragging her soon).

The streets began to clear out within a few block, and she could tell that Bucky was planning out their next move. She should be helping him. She had more experience in this world than him. But all she could think about was Mavis falling to the ground dead, just for answering a question.

_You are selfish. _ She knew that.

She just didn't know how to fix it.

"Cara," Bucky said suddenly. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry. About everything. You know that, right?"

"You don't need to be sorry."

"I do. I sent you away. I shouldn't have done that, I knew it was dangerous," he said. "And I knew...I knew that I was dangerous."

"You're not dangerous."

"I am-"

"Barnes," she said seriously. "Shut up."

He did so.

"And if you really need me to say it, I forgive you. You're ridiculous and adorable for thinking I need to, but I will always forgive you. No matter what"

He smiled to himself, speaking very softly when he spoke again. "You know, doll? That's really nice to hear."

**A/N:** So this is largely unedited, but I was trying to get it up before tomorrow, or I would just be in this endless loop of procrastination. Any mistakes will be fixed when I'm not half asleep.

Don't know when I'll be able to get the next chapter up, as the next few weeks are looking a bit crazy. If I disappear, I promise, I'll be back.

I also cut out the beginning of this which had a cameo from a Constantine character, because said character lives in Brooklyn (in the show), and I'm super obsessed with Justice League Dark and Hellblazer right now. It wasn't really fitting with the story, and not a ton of you guys watch the show, so I left it out to avoid confusion. If anyone is actually interested in reading it, I can post it as a one shot.


	30. L'appel du Vide

**A/N:** _Come As You Are_ by Nirvana / _Come As You Are_ by Civil Twilight

[The Continental Hotel, July 9th, 2011]

_Cara sat at the bar of the hotel, staring at the empty glass in front of her. Her day had been, without a doubt, one of the shittiest she had ever experienced. A close friend of hers had been a mole, and he nearly killed her when she finally figured it out. Only the intervention of Natasha Romanoff had saved her life, and to top it all off, they had escaped. The knife wound under her collarbone was deep, needing several stitches._

_"Thought I'd find you here," a voice said. She looked up to see Amatus sliding onto the stool next to her._

_"What do you want?" she said._

_"Wanted to make sure you're okay," he said. "Sybil's worried."_

_"Well, I'm doing _fantastic_," she said, raising her hand to catch the bartender's attention. "Absolutely _smashing_."_

_"How many have you had?"_

_"Not enough."_

_He sighed. "Fletcher-"_

_"Not Fletcher tonight. Lilia Jackson? Marya Morevna? I'm someone else. I have so many names, and I'm always someone else," she said, laughing bitterly. "Like you. What stupid thing are you calling yourself now? Shadow? Ghost? Avenger? You have too many names. Do you think that people like us have so many names because we hate who we really are?"_

_He sighed. "Look, Fletcher. Missions go wrong sometimes. It happens."_

_"I let a person like that get away, Amatus. He's going to keep hurting people. Every one who suffers because of this is on me."_

_"Not just you. This was the team's mission. We're all feeling this. And the last thing you should be doing is drinking alone."_

_She sighed. "You can stay, but you have to be quiet. I'm wallowing in self pity, and you always find a way to ruin that."_

_"As your partner and closest friend-"_

_"You're not my closest friend."_

_"What?" he said, offended. "Who is?"_

_"I don't know. Sybil. Natasha. Clint, maybe. Sophia. Sharon. There's a list."_

_"Fine. As your partner and one of your closest friends, I believe that's my job," he said. A new song began to play a the radio. "Oh, I like this song. Come As You Are. Nirvana."_

_"I wouldn't know."_

_"Because you live under a rock."_

_"Under a SHIELD."_

_He snorted. "Same thing. Check them out. They were great. I mean, still are, but lead singer died, and they broke up. Drummer started a new band, Foo Fighters, and they're great too. Ever want to see a fight between Sybil and Soph, ask which one's better."_

_"You do realize I have no idea what you're saying," she said, but she was smiling slightly._

_"Look. You're years behind on popular culture, so start in the nineties. Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Pixies. Listen to some music and be a person."_

_"I am a person."_

_"You're a person who lives under a rock. We established this."_

_She fell silent, shaking her head, and turning her attention back to her drink._

_"Fletcher?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"You going to be alright?"_

_"Don't ask question you don't want to know the answer to."_

_He looked at his hands. "You ever stand somewhere really high up, and you look down, and you just have the urge to jump?"_

_"Yes."_

_"There's a term for that. L'appel du vide. The call of the void. The urge to fall. That's all you're feeling right now."_

_"I'm not standing on a ledge, Amatus. I'm just telling you the truth."_

_"Spies don't tell the truth. We lie. And you're a hell of a liar."_

_"Well, enjoy this lapse of judgment. I'm not okay, I'm not going to be okay, and I'm telling you the truth," she snapped._

_He looked at her sadly. "That's just the fall talking, Fletcher," he said. She shut her eyes, burying her face in her hands. He put his hand on her shoulder. "That's just the fall."_

* * *

[The Continental Hotel, June 2014]

Bucky hated hotels, he decided. He hated the fact that he didn't know who was on the order sides of the walls, didn't know who else had been here before. Cara had suggested it, looking for the first time in a while, claiming she knew the owner. She was still shaken, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

The lobby was large and ornate, with several glass chandeliers and sweeping staircases, with a few people sitting about reading newspapers or typing on laptops. Although none of them seemed to even notice they were there, he pulled her closer. She didn't seem to notice.

The man at the front desk didn't look up when they entered. Cara pushed her way out of his hold, and walked forward with a steady confidence that was almost betrayed by her trembling hands. He stood close behind her.

"Room for two," she said. The man looked up, peering at her over his glasses.

"Have you stayed with us before?"

"Yes," she said. "Although it was a while ago. Under a different name."

"Ah," he said, typing quickly. "We've had a few of those come through recently." He paused. "Do you have any identification?"

She nodded, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a driver's license. He ran his finger over one of the numbers typing it in, and looking over the screen. He look up at her, giving her nod.

"Welcome back, Ms. Fox," he said, taking a key off the hook under the desk. He slid it and the license towards her. "I'd like to remind you that no business is to be conducted on the property."

"Of course," she said, taking them both.

"Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you."

Bucky stared at her. She avoided his gaze.

"What was that?" he whispered, as she looped her arm through his.

"Routine," she said back.

"What sort of routine?" he said. "That was... Weird."

"Please don't ask that, Bucky," she said, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "We'll be safe here, at least until we can get out. You can trust me on that."

"Alright," he said, shaking his head as they stepped in the elevator. "But I need some answers eventually."

"So do I," she said, and there was a challenge there. She would tell him her secrets, if he told her his. He couldn't do that, and so he left the topic alone.

She leaned against the wall the moment the doors closed, facade slipping. She shut her eyes, tilting her head back forwards the ceiling, sighing. He observed her silently, not saying anything. Her head had been cleaned up for the most part, although the gash was still apparent, as were the bruises from earlier. Blood stuck in her hair, a crimson against as more natural red, it hanging long over one shoulder. Her lips were pressed into a line, and there were shadows under her eyes. She didn't acknowledge him, as she breathed out, hands braced against the wall, looking as if she was staring at the sky with her eyes closed.

He remembered back when they had first started out together. He had seen the position as one of vulnerability, weakness. He could kill her before she knew what was happening. He had hated himself then, and hated himself even more now.

But that wasn't what this was. She wasn't being weak. She was trusting him. There had to be a difference.

Didn't there?

"I can hear you thinking," she said quietly. She didn't move.

He shifted slightly, looking away from her. "Sorry," he muttered.

"You're worried."

"Understatement."

She opened her eyes, meeting his eyes levelly. "Hey," she said. "They haven't gotten us yet."

He gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "They've gotten close. They've hurt you _twice_, Cara. What they can do... You should be terrified."

"And I am," she said. "I'm so mind numbingly scared, I feel like I might die. But it could be worse."

"How could it be worse?" he said, running his hand through his hair. He could hear a desperation behind his words.

"I could be alone," she said, whispering. "You're here. You have my back. It could be so much worse."

"I got you into this."

"You didn't."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"_Bucky_," she said. "Get this into your thick skull. I don't care about who's coming after you, or who's coming after me. I don't care about what you've done. I don't care about any of it. I care about _you_. I'm choosing you."

He stared at her, at a complete loss for words, as the doors slid open. A man stood there, freezing for a moment, glancing between them as if aware that he had walked into something.

He cleared his throat, and gave a mumbled "'Scuse me," as he stepped in. Bucky reached for Cara's hand, letting her pull him to her. The door shut, and it began to move up again.

Bucky looked down at her, and he could feel his heart beating loudly.

She had chosen him.

Chosen him.

_Him._

He was in a bit of a daze when he left the elevator, following Cara. She looked back at him, and smirked, shaking her head.

"You have the stupidest smile on your face right now," she said. He looked away quickly. "It's cute."

"I'm not _cute_," he said, shooting her a mildly offended look.

"No, but your smile is."

"It's not."

"It is. It's adorable."

"No," was his only (dismayed) reply.

"Aw. Now _you're_ being cute."

"_I'm not cute,_" he said. "I'm... I don't know. Not cute. Stop making me say that word."

She grinned at him, stopping in front a door, and unlocking it with the key from the front desk. He stopped her before she could enter, shaking his head slightly. She rolled her eyes, stepping aside so that he could go in first, silently. He heard nothing, and he detected nothing out of the ordinary, although the room confirmed his earlier sentiments.

Bucky _really_ _hated_ hotels.

The room was fine, even if the window was bigger than he would have liked. It was split into two sections, a small dining area with a table in the corner, and a step down, a slightly larger area with a television and a bed.

That was his problem.

A bed.

A_ singular_ bed.

He glanced at Cara, who didn't seem bothered by it, and was messing with a radio on the dresser. He glanced around. It was bright in the room, even the lights were off. It was only about three in the afternoon.

He walked over to the window, taking in the view, before throwing the curtains shut. The opposite building was an ideal spot for a sniper to sit, and he didn't want to take any chances. He heard a thump, and turned around to find Cara collapsed dramatically on the bed.

"This is my side," she said, voice muffled by the pillow.

"You can have the entire thing. I can take the floor-"

"Barnes, you've already slept next to me," she said, looking up. "This isn't anything new."

"I know but this... Is different."

"Why? Because we're in a hotel? We're going to be asleep. Nothing is going to happen." She settled back into the pillows, shutting her eyes. He sat down next to her, on his side.

"Is there anything you need from the apartment?"

She shrugged. "Nothing I was really attached to."

"Really?"

"Materialism isn't for me," she said, yawning. He gave a small laugh, leaning down to kiss her hair. Her breath caught slightly, and she peered up at him with half lidded eyes.

"You sure you don't need anything?"

She shook head. "Just sleep," she murmured.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be here if you need me."

She looked at him, some expression he couldn't recognize passing over her face. She nodded, swallowing heavily, and turned away from him, turning on her side.

He sighed, lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, not seeing how she stared vacantly at the wall, fingers running over the scar under her collarbone. He didn't see open her mouth to see something, before thinking better of it. He didn't see what was happening in her mind, guilt and fear and love raging in a slow, unending battle.

He didn't see that.

All he wanted to see was Cara Fox, and all he saw was Cara Fox.

* * *

It took only a few minutes for him to doze off. He was exhausted, and the past few days hadn't been easy on him either. The sleep started out well. Then, like it did every time he tried to shut his eyes, it all went to hell.

The nightmare started as usual, a memory. He was moving silently down a darkened street, the blurry world tilting from side to side. There was the occasional bright flash of light where he caught a someone on the street staring at him as they passed. A girl had been screaming for help, cornered in an alley by two men. He had run in, and the next thing he knew, the men were lying at his feet, covered in blood, a knife in his hands. The girl was staring at him, shaking in terror. He had told her to run. Scream at her to run, get out, get help. And then he was gone, walking through the streets.

There was a gun pointed at Cara's head. She laughed in the face of death, before, turning to him. Laughing at him. Laughing.

He tried to run, but his feet were frozen to the ground.

"Bucky," Cara said. "Help me."

He couldn't speak.

"Please help me," she said, and she wasn't laughing anymore, face etched with an absolute terror that tore at his heart. "Please save me."

"I can't," he managed.

"Please! Help me, Bucky!" she screamed, reaching towards him as a gunshot rang out. It was like it broke a spell, and he sprinted forward, knocking the gun out of the man's hand, hitting him in the face repeatedly.

He looked back at Cara, expecting to see her still sitting there. She was lying on the ground, in a pool of her own blood. The world fell away, leaving just them. Scrambling to her side, he held her to his chest as he trembled. She had been shot in the chest, her eyes staring vacantly up at him. Through him.

"You can't be dead," he said, shaking her. "You can't be dead! I don't want you to die, please Cara. I'm here, you can't die."

He tried to stopped the bleeding, hands shaking.

"You did this," the man, Lewis, said in his ear. "You did this." He stepped in front of him, sleeves rolled up, showing the yellow device on his arm.

"I didn't! I didn't do this. I couldn't have done this!"

"You sure about that?" It was Pierce now, standing in front of him, wearing that terrifying false smile. "Look again, Soldier."

Bucky looked behind him, at the shooter's body. It was a man, wearing black combat gear and a mask, with brown hair and dead blue eyes. That's when Bucky began to scream. He looked down at Cara, at her blood spilling through her fingers. So much blood, so much blood, blood that was on his hands.

"Cara, Cara, please, come back to me! Cara!"

"Bucky," she said suddenly. Something touched his shoulder. "Bucky!"

He sat up quickly, lashing out, as he looked wildly around to find the source of the voice. He caught sight of her, kneeling just out of reach of his fist. He breathed heavily, tangling his fingers in the blankets. He blinked a few times, before leaning forward, pressing the base of his palms into his forehead.

"Cara?"

"It's me."

"What happened?" his voice broke slightly.

"You fell asleep. You were having a nightmare. You called out for me."

He groaned, running his hand through his hair. "Did I wake you?"

"I should probably be awake anyways," she said. She moved in closer to him, as he swung his leg of the bed, keeping his head in his hands. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

She shifted next to him. He felt her touch his arm, as he released a short breath.

"Bucky," she whispered. "Talk to me."

"You died," he said shortly. He left out the part where he killed her. "In my dream, you died."

She was silent. He opened his eyes slightly to look at her. She was staring at him, obviously unsure of what to say. Instead, she extended a hand, taking his, skin cool on his. He slid his fingers up her wrist to feel her pulse, and she let him, keeping her fingers loose. He could feel her heartbeat, and it was steady, beating. Alive. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

"You were gone. You were just... Gone."

"I won't go anywhere if you won't."

He made a split second decision and pulled her sharply towards him, wrapping his arms around her, and burying his face in the crook of her neck. He took a deep breath, feeling her chest rise and fall. She put her hand on his lightly on his back.

"Hey," she said gently, pulling back slightly. He couldn't look her in the eye. "Bucky."

"You begged me to help you, asked me to help," he said, beginning to talk louder, feeling the hysteria creep into his voice. "You were just dead, bleeding out in my arms, and I couldn't do anything to save you. You asked me to save you. I couldn't. I failed. I failed you. You were dead, Cara, you were dead. I lost- I lost you."

"I'm here," she whispered, pushing his hair out of his face. She made him look at her, face centimeters from his. "I'm here, and you're not losing me, not like that."

What Bucky did next was stupid and reckless, but he wasn't thinking. He didn't know what he was doing. He was panicking. All he knew was that all of a sudden, his lips were crashing onto hers before he could stop himself. She was frozen beneath him. His stomach dropped, as mentally listed everything that was wrong with what he just did. He had no right to do that. It was inappropriate. He had scared her off. She was going to hate him, or yell at him, or something. He pulled back sharply. She was staring at him, eyes wide in shock.

"I'm sorry," he said, struggling to find to words. "That was- I don't know- I'm sor-"

"Don't be," she said, cutting him off, and _she_ leaned forward, kissing him, fingers sliding into his hair. His metal hand was on her side, and he could feel the vaguest details. The faint outline of her ribs, the faint rising motion as she breathed. It felt distant, though, cold and incomplete. His other hand mirrored it, but he could feel the fire, sparks running though his skin, her warmth nearly burning him. He slid his hand down her back, down the ridges of her spine, feeling where her shirt had ridden up slightly on her hip. She tensed beneath his touch, and he froze as well, knowing he had crossed a line, before she broke away abruptly, looking away from him.

"Wait," she whispered. She stood up, running her hands over her hair, and began pacing in front of him. "That was stupid of me. I'm sorry, Bucky. This isn't right. Shit. I can't."

"I understand," he said quietly back. He thought about the last person who she had done this with, who ended up being a psychopath. "It was a mistake. It's too soon. I understand."

"No. You don't, you can't understand," she said. She bit her lip, staring at him. "I wish you could, but- It's just... I... You don't understand."

He put his head in his hands, ignoring the swelling pain in chest. He could deal with pain. As long as he didn't focus on it, as long as he moved on. He could deal with this.

"Cara, it was a mistake. That's all it was. Forget it even happened. It was a mistake." It was for the best. She would be much safer (and no doubt happier) without him, at least in that way. He looked away, still seeing her body in his arms. He hadn't been able to save her.

She sat down next to him, arms wrapped around herself. "Then why doesn't it feel like one?"

He looked sharply at her. "What?"

"I don't know," she said. "I really don't know."

"Cara," he whispered.

She stared at her hands, and looked back up at him.

"What do you think of me?" she said.

He blinked in surprise. "What?"

"When you look at me, what do you see?"

"I see Cara Fox. I see the person who has put up with more shit than she should have to. I see the woman who's strong, and kind, and perfect."

"That's what I was afraid of," she sighed.

"What?"

She opened her mouth, looking desperately like she wanted to say something, before shaking her head, face closing off again.

"Nevermind," she said.

"You can tell me."

"Not this," she said. "Not now. You'll hate me."

"I don't think I could ever hate you," he said.

"No. You could. Trust me, you could," she said. She hesitated before speaking again, like she was carefully considering her words. "Have you ever been up high, and you look down, and suddenly, you just have the urge to jump?"

He thought about it. There was one time he remember, looking through the broken window of an abandoned building, looking through the scope of a long range rifle, waiting for the target to pass. It was hot inside his suit, breath muffled behind the mask, sweat dripping down his head. He had been sitting there for hours, and there was still no sign of them. He had, in a moment of weakness, looked away from the scope, and stepped back, looking down off the edge of the building. He had, in that moment, taken off the mask, taken in a breath of cold winter air, taken in the sight of the cars rushing below him. He had stared down, toes dangling off the edge. He had wanted to just step off, for only the briefest of seconds, before he came back to reality, putting the mask back on, going back behind the gun.

The target came by five minutes later.

He had completed his mission quietly and efficiently.

"Yes," Bucky said.

"You know what it's called? L'appel du vide. The call of the void. The little self destructive voice that tells you to jump, to fall. And I'm hearing it now. I'm feeling that."

"How so?"

"I think I care about you a lot, Bucky. It might be turning into more."

His heart quickened, and he didn't dare speak.

"I'm standing on the edge of something, and I'm just waiting to fall. I don't think I can do that. I can't fall... Not now. Not after everything else."

"Turn back," he said. "If you're scared, turn back."

"I can't do that either. Turning back would hurt. No, it would be more than just hurt. Turning back would kill me."

He stared at her blankly. "What do you want?"

She sighed, looking away. "I don't know. Every choice ends badly."

He pushed her hair back, running his thumb over her cheek. "It doesn't have to."

"Yes. For me it does."

He breathed out heavily, in something akin to a sigh. She finally looked up at him, green eyes dark under the light of the lamp at their side, and something changed in her expression.

"I want to kiss you again," she said. "It's a really bad idea, but I want to."

He gave her a small smile, and her face lit up when she saw it, the shadows of whatever she was going through still lingering in her eyes. "I certainly wouldn't mind it."

"Good," she said, she leaned forward, lightly pressing her lips to his. There wasn't the terror that had been there before, when he had put all his fear, his pain in. This was different. Darker and stronger and leading to something else. She pulled herself up into his lap, hands running down his shoulders, breaking away for a moment.

"How far do you want to go?" she whispered.

"I don't care," he said, leaning in again, and it was true. This still had to be a dream. He was kissing her. Her. It couldn't be real. Any moment now, he'd wake up. She dodged his lips.

"I'm serious," she said.

"Anything," he said. "Anything."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "Okay."

As she kissed him again, he understood what she meant. He was falling, they were both falling, and he wasn't sure that he could ever fight his way up again.

Cara woke up the next morning to find herself pressed against Bucky, his metal arm draped over her waist. Her heart beat slightly faster as she turned over to look at him, still asleep, hair hanging in his face. He was so much more peaceful. He shifted, unconsciously pulling her closer. She sighed. She had done a stupid thing. She had done a very stupid thing.

She should have told him the truth, not fucked him.

And now, if he found out, when he found out, it would be just another betrayal of his trust.

But she couldn't have told him. Not last night. Not when he was like that. He had already been a mess, his dream causing him a tremendous amount of pain. She couldn't have added to that. She couldn't have hurt him even more. (Maybe that wasn't the whole truth. Maybe she was afraid. Maybe she didn't want to lose him, didn't want him to hate her).

She gently brushed away some strands of his hair, the action causing him to slowly wake up. He blinked his eyes open, and small smile appeared on his face.

"Hey," she whispered. "Good morning."

"Morning," he said, wrapping his arm tighter around her, dragging her closer, as he shut his eyes again.

She laughed. "What? Worried I might be going somewhere?"

"Worried this isn't real. Worried I might wake up."

She pinched his arm, and he jumped, looking up at her. "Look. You're awake, and I'm still here."

He rolled his eyes, sitting up. "If I take a shower, you'll still be here?"

"We've established that this isn't a dream."

"Yeah. You might leave."

"Because obviously, I have so many places I can go right now," she said, before glancing at him, smirking. "Anyways. There's a few reason I'd want to stick around here."

"Like what?"

"There's a guy. Killer looks. Fantastic body."

"That it."

"A real sweetheart. But he's _extremely _attractive, and that is the most important part."

"Is it?" he said, leaning down to peck her lips.

"Mmm," she said. "It is."

He laughed. "Good to know," he said, as he got up, and walked away. She watched him go.

"Killer looks. Fantastic body. Like I was saying," she called after him.

"Yeah, yeah. Just enjoy the view and shut up."

She laughed, getting up as well, and tracking down her clothes. Putting them on, she turned her attention to the radio at the side. She walked over, fiddling the dials until sound came out. The song made her freeze.

It was different from how she remembered it, a different artist singing it.

_"Come as you are, as you were,_

_As I want you to be._

_As a friend, as a friend,_

_As an old enemy."_

She thought back to then. To the betrayal of the man who she trusted. To her friend telling her what she had always known.

_"Spies don't tell the truth. We lie. And you're a hell of a liar."_

She sat down on the bed. She had already betrayed Bucky. She knew that. She had betrayed his trusted. But she wasn't a spy anymore. She didn't have to lie.

She could give Bucky something.

She could give him the truth.

She shut her eyes, listening to the sound of the water coming from the bathroom, as it turned off. She waited until she heard the door open. He came out, dressed, hair still wet. He smiled at her, and she steeled her nerve. He was going to hate her, but if she didn't tell her, it would just be harder. If he found out some other way, he'd hate her even more.

She had to be honest with him, on her own terms. She had to do this, even if it broke her heart.

Even if it broke his.

She had to.

"What?" he said, smiling waning when he saw her expression, sitting down next to her.

"I-I haven't been completely honest with you," she said.

"What?" he repeated.

"You'll hate me," she whispered.

"Cara?"

"You'll hate me, and I want you to know, I'm sorry. I truly am. I don't want you to hate me. My name is... My name was Cara Calista Fletcher. I am not who you think I am, and I'm so sorry about that. I've been lying to you. I've been lying to you since we first met."

He was staring at her, almost blankly, like he wasn't comprehending her words.

"I know who you are too. You are James Buchanan Barnes. You knew Steve Rogers, he was your best friend, and you supposedly died in World War II. But you didn't. You were taken by HYDRA, and they... They hurt you. You are James Buchanan Barnes, and you are the Winter Soldier."

**A/N:** This has been building up for thirty chapter. THIRTY CHAPTERS. Wow, I'm amazed we finally got here.

Crap, this is long. Like 5000 words, the longest thing I've ever written. I'm trying to get it up fast, so forgive any mistakes.

This chapter was fun. Lots of things happened. Hope it wasn't forced or anything. Little bit of everything. And boy, I'll tell you, kissy kissy love scenes are so much harder than fight scenes. I did want to get some fluff in there before what happen next happens.

The Continental may or may not be inspired by _John Wick_. Who are we kidding, it's like one of my favorite movies ever, the answer is yes.


	31. Lies

**A/N:**_ Devil's Spoke_ by Laura Marling

Cara held her breath, waiting for his reaction. The world seemed to stop. He stared at her, and his mouth opened slightly, and very suddenly, she found herself slammed against the wall, his arm at her throat, fingers tangled in her shirt. The sharp metal was cold, digging into her skin. His face was centimeters from hers, she could feel his breath, and see the confusion and fear and _anger_ in his eyes. She grasped desperately at his arm, although she knew that it would do little good if he decided he was going to kill her. She shut her eyes, turning her face away from him.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" he said.

"I wanted to protect you," she said. "That's all I wanted."

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am. Cara Fox. Previously known as Cara Fletcher. I'm an ex-agent of SHIELD. I promise, you have to believe me, I'd never betray you. I'm here to protect you. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to tell you. God, none of this was supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to get attached to you like this."

He pressed harder against her throat, slowly cutting off her oxygen. She began to cough, pulling at his arm in vain.

"You're one of _them_."

"No. I'm not. Please. Bucky, I'd never do what they did. SHIELD wasn't HYDRA. They used us, Bucky, they used us!"

She opened her eyes, meeting his furious gaze, filled with hurt and hatred. Why wasn't she fighting back? She tried to move her hands, to twist from his grip, to escape. But she didn't. She couldn't bring herself to try. She simply clung to his arm in an attempt to delay the inevitable. Suddenly, the pressure was gone, as he backed away. She slid to the ground, gasping for air, and pulled back against the wall, drawing her knees to her chest, head down.

He turned away, breathing almost hard as her. "Was any of it real?" he said, voice soft.

She didn't look at him, keeping her face turned away, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, curled into a ball.

"Was any of it real?" he said, practically screaming at her. She flinched, finally gathering up the courage to look up at him. He was staring at her, desperately searching for any sign that she hadn't just been playing him, using him. But wasn't that the worst part? She had been using him, at least in the beginning, make herself feel better about the fact that she had had nothing.

"You're my friend," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, and failing miserably. "You're my friend, you're more than my friend, and I care about you. I'd die for you."

He bowed his head, and began to walk away. Towards the door. Away from her.

"Bucky!" she said, getting shakily to her feet. "Bucky, please, you can't leave."

He turned to glare at her. "Yeah, why not?"

"They can't hurt us here," she said. "This place, it's a safe haven for...for people like us. No business can be conducted on the property."

"And why should I trust you?"

"All I wanted was to keep you safe," she said, and could feel tears welling up in her eyes. "Please, Bucky. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe. That's all I ever wanted."

He looked at her, and for a moment, she saw a flash of her Bucky. Then he blinked, and it was gone, and only that cold rage remained.

"You are going to stay away from me," he said. "You are not going to come near me again. I swear, if you do, I will kill you."

And with that, he spun around, leaving the room.

"Bucky," she said, trying to follow him. "Bucky, wait-"

"Stay away from me!" he snapped, not looking back. She stopped, standing in the doorway, and watching him go. She put her hand over her mouth, falling to her knees, and for the first time in a long time, began to honestly cry. The worst part was that she knew she deserved all of this. She had lied to him. She had asked him for his trust and betrayed it. And now she had to live with the consequences.

Phase 3 of her plan. Keep him from learning who she was.

Failed.

* * *

Sybil White was a good friend.

When her old team mate called at seven o'clock in the morning and sobbed something about losing a lucky man or some shit, asking for her to come over, she did. She had to take the bus (having crashed her car earlier that week..._so_ not her fault though), and then had to sit between a scary someone who was playing rapping banjo music at full volume through their headphones (on repeat), and a scary looking guy who sneezed nonstop (now she was probably infected with a scary zombie disease, and she really did not need that in her life right now), and on top of all that, had to go to the scary assassin hotel.

She hated the scary assassin hotel.

She had to walked passed the scary desk worker, and the scary people staying there, and had to stand in the scary elevator with the scary maid.

(But, bright side, had also brought with her a 112-ounce jar of chocolate pudding. Cara sounded like she needed it).

Yeah. She was a damn good friend.

Cara opened the door before she finished knocking, and man, she looked bad. She was covered in old bruises and cuts, and had obviously been crying for a while.

"Wow. You look like shit," she said. Cara didn't acknowledge that comment.

"Did you bring your computer?" she asked.

"Um, duh?" Sybil said. "I never leave home without it." She tried for a smile, but Cara didn't return, it, sitting down at the table. Sybil settled next to her, reaching in her bag for her laptop. She also pulled out the pudding. She had a feeling she was going to need it, before this was over.

"I need you to find someone," Cara said. "Hack the cameras in the area, search for sales records, I don't care. Just find him."

"Right," she said, cracking her knuckles, and tilting her head to the side. "Um. Who am I looking for?"

Cara looked like she was debating something. "You remember how you told me when you were in high school, and you did that project on the Howling Commandos?"

"Yeah, it was the reason I joined SHIELD."

"So you know about Bucky Barnes. You know that he is a good man. Do you remember all the talk about the Winter Soldier? Nat's conspiracy theories, what happened in DC. Stark'll have told you who is now. The Winter Soldier is Bucky."

"Yeah... I guess... Where are you going with this? Are we... Are we tracking down the Winter Soldier?"

She paused. "Do you remember that man who was with me? Weeks ago, when I called you for a ride?"

"Oh, no. Cara. No. You didn't. Shit, Cara you didn't bring in another stray. You did not bring in an assassin stray wanted for murder all over the world."

"His name is Bucky. I need you to find him. I think he's in danger."

"Okay... First of all, explain to me... _what__'s__happening_?"

Cara sighed. "I saw him. When SHIELD was going down, I saw him save Rogers. He looked... I don't know, scared. Broken. Human. I couldn't leave him out there, _I couldn__'t._"

"So, what? You were just like 'hey man. I know you probably think HYDRA and SHIELD are the same thing, and for good reason, but I'm a good guy, I pinky promise', and he was totally fine with it and you both skipped merrily away into the sunset? Were there rainbows and unicorns?"

Cara fidgeted nervously. "No."

"Oh," Sybil said, leaning to the side. "You didn't tell him. Wonderful."

"I did. This morning. He... didn't take it well."

"Did you fight him? Like is that what all this is?" Sybil said, gesturing to the bruises littering every available surface on Cara's body, feeling a surge of protective mama bear power. No one hurt her friends and lived to tell. Especially not Cara. The girl had some _serious_ issues and it seemed like her life was a perpetual downhill slope. It was like Murphy's Law to the max with her. "Do I need to beat him up?"

"No," Cara said quickly. "No, this was something else. Several somethings. He helped me with those. I mean, this was him-" she pointed at the bruise on her neck, which Sybil now recognized as imprints resembling a metal arm. "-but I think I deserved that one."

"Cara..."

"You know, he told me that if I ever came near him again, he'd kill me. How funny is that? He used to be the one saving my life, and now, he's the one saying he'll end it."

Sybil watched her friend. She was staring listlessly at her hands, and seemed on the verge of tears again. Wow. She hadn't seen Cara this messed up since the Battle, and that had been _bad. _Whatever this Bucky guy was to her, him leaving had broke her heart.

"Cara," she said hesitantly. "Maybe you should let him go."

Her head snapped up. "No!" she said sharply.

"Why not? Look. He's not happy with you. He's threatened to kill you, and we both know that he's more than capable of doing it. Maybe the best thing to do is step back, and let go."

"No," she said. "You don't understand. We were running away. HYDRA's after him. I can't let them get him again. You don't know what they did to him. Sybil, if you read his files. Been with him after his nightmares. Sybil, he nearly _died_ because of what they did, and all I could do was hold his hand. They took everything from him. The things they made him do... I can't let them get him. Not again. To him, he's not human, he's a weapon. I have to be there for him."

"You like him a lot, don't you?"

Cara didn't answer right away. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Like how much?"

"I don't know," she said. "There isn't exactly a scale for how much I like someone."

"Did you, like, sleep with him?"

"Sybil!"

"Oh. No. You did, didn't you? You just had to sleep with the unstable assassin. Did he tell you who he was at least? Or did he drag you into this with no warning? Oh, my god, Cara, if you were normal, the bad guys would use you as leverage. The Winter Soldier's civilian girlfriend? You'd be so dead. Tortured to keep pretty boy in line. And then he thinks that he has the right to say that _he__'s_ going to kill _you_? You know what, I am freaking out right now. Like seriously freaking out. I do not like this man, even if you have a crush on him. He is bad news. I might fight him. Or eat this entire thing of pudding I'm not sure which, but it's going to be one of them." She reached for the jar, clutching it to her chest.

Cara shut her eyes. "Sybil, calm down... Just find him."

"Fine. I'm doing it," she said. "You know, I'm not very good at this type stuff-"

"You know the basics. That's enough, right?"

"Yeah. For this, I mean, yeah. Although, I'm way more interested in his arm. If we find him, and if I don't kill him for endangering your puny yet precious mortal life, I'm so checking it out. Can he feel at all? Does it replicate those nerves that were severed, or what?"

"Just work on finding him, and have your science moment later."

"Right, right," Sybil said, as she worked her way into the Continental's security system, watching the Winter Soldier walk away from Cara's room. She saw Cara collapse, watching him go, sobbing. Bucky didn't look much better off, looking shaken as he walked, before finally sliding to the floor once he stepped into the elevator, burying his face in his hands. Poor guy. Like she might not like him personally, but man, this was a mess. He slowly rose to his feet when the elevator hit the ground, walking out like he had no idea where he was going, like he was lost. When he went outside, she switched to other security and red light cameras, keeping vague tabs on him. That's when she noticed it.

"Shit, Cara," she said. "He's being tailed."

Cara had been sitting with her head in her hands, and she looked up suddenly, moving so that she could see the screen. "What?"

"Look," she said, pointing at the people in black who were most definitely following him. She could swear she heard Cara stop breathing.

"He'll have noticed," Cara murmured. "He's good. He'll shake them."

"He's also distracted," Sybil pointed out, as he walked into a warehouse, out of their line of vision. The goons in black followed him. Three of them. Oh, great, and there was a creepy serial killer white van pulling up, no doubt with more evil thugs inside.

Cara shut her eyes. "You have a gun on you?"

"Yeah-"

Cara reached down in her bag, snatching up the small handgun, sliding out the magazine, checking if it was loaded. It was. She slid it into her waistband, throwing on a green jacket that seemed way too big for her.

"Hey," Sybil said. "What are you doing?"

"Saving him," she said, walking towards the door. "Stay here. Keep an eye on everything, keep me updated. I have my phone on me."

"Cara, you moron, he said that if he saw you again, he'd kill you-"

"I don't care," she said, and Sybil could see a dark desperation in her eyes. "I won't let them hurt him again."

She took off quickly, and Sybil sighed, turning back to the screen. As she watched Cara chase after the Winter Soldier, she knew that she had been wrong. Cara didn't just like him a lot. It was more than that.

And Sybil had a bad feeling that it was going to get her friend killed.

* * *

Bucky sat in the warehouse, arms wrapped tightly around himself, trying to make sense of the mess of thoughts running through his head.

Cara had lied. She had lied to him. She worked for SHIELD, the organization that had harbored HYDRA. She was one of them. She had been using him. But he knew her, he knew her, his Cara... Had it all been a lie? Seeing her breakdown like that had hurt, and for a second, he had almost believed that she had done this to help him. But then he remembered the false smiles of HYDRA. She was one of them.

How could he have been so stupid? She had said a thousand things that were just off enough that he should have realized that she was not normal. She had cut a man's hand off on their second meeting, for God's sake. She had met him twice, no, she had followed him. There was no fate involved.

Did she care about him at all? She had said she had, but who's to say that it wasn't just another lie, another manipulation?

Who was Cara Fox?

The doors of the warehouse creaked open, cutting off his thoughts, and his head snapped up as he rose quickly to his feet, fingers curling at his side. He knew instantly that coming here had been a mistake when he was the two men walk in, saw how their steps marked the fact that they were simply a distraction. That this was a trap, and that he had walked right into it. That at any moment, someone was going to sneak up on him.

He spun around, just in time to dodge the fist moving towards his head, but not in time to block the taser rod hitting his gut. Falling to his knees, he gasped, feeling his muscles tighten as the burst of electricity surged through him, and smelled the sickening burning. He could feel his arm short circuiting, falling limply to his side. He gasped, pulling away and punching whoever it was in the face.

Almost immediately, he felt the other two grab his arms, and attempt wrestle him back. He heard the screeching of tires, catching sight of a van pull up. They were here to take him away. The thought, made him break free, kicking back, and lashing out with his good arm. He caught someone's nose, and heard a satisfying crack. He tried to get away, to gain some advantage, but someone tried to swiped his leg out from under him, failing in that measure, but succeeding in throwing off his balance. A rod, maybe two, hit him on his stomach again, and he gasped, reeling away. Someone kicked him in the chest, and he fell to the ground, another taser rod hitting him in the back, right on his spine. He groaned. He knew these had been used on him before, more like tested as a measure for when he had rare moments of lucidity. They hadn't done nearly this much damage then.

"They said it'd be hard," one of them said, as they dragged his wrists into heavy cuffs. "Like the guy fought Captain America. He's been trained for like, fifty years."

"The bastard broke my nose."

"Yeah, but dude, you ever see him fight for real? We should be dead."

"He's been out too long," someone else said, as their foot collided with his stomach. He hissed, unwilling to give them the satisfaction of showing pain. "He needs us to keep him sharp."

"Don't get cocky," a third voice said. "He may still have some tricks up his sleeve. We had the jump, and the encounters with Rogers gave us more reason to create more powerful non lethal weapons. Hold it there long enough, and he'll just fall asleep. Watch." The taser was pressed firmly into his shoulder blade. This time he couldn't hold back a scream, the burning pain rushing through his muscles, burning, burning, burning.

"Let him go."

That wasn't any of them. He knew that one, that voice.

Cara.

The rod pulled back, and he took a deep breath, rolling onto his side to see her. She had her hair tied back, a gun raised, stance perfect. Her face was hard, and he saw her eyes dart down to him, checking his status. This was her job, what she had been trained for. This was the real her.

"Step away from him."

They didn't. Instead, the one who had been holding the rod against his shoulder, pulled him to his knees, keeping the surface of it right next to his skin. He could feel the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He breathed heavily, staring at the ground.

"Oh. You must be the bird he's been shacking up with," one said. "Nice of you to drop by."

"_Step away from him_."

"What? You afraid we'll do something like this?" The tip of the rod was pressed into his rib, and he screamed again, seeing black. It dragged on, longer than any of the other ones, and he felt himself fall back to the ground, curling on his side. He barely heard Cara yell something, then the sound of three gunshots before the pain stopped. There was another two, three, four, and still, he could not move. He felt someone touching his shoulder, dragging him into their arms. He opened his eyes slightly to see that Cara had run over, and was holding him closely. Her mouth was moving but not making any sound. She shakily pressed her fingers to his neck, checking his pulse, making sure it was steady, before smiling weakly, leaning down and kissing his forehead.

"-kay, you're okay," she said, as he finally caught her words. "They're dead, they're gone, you're okay."

"Why?" he said. She looked down at him, clearly understanding what he meant.

"Because I promised I'd protect you," she said. "I won't go back on that."

She managed to get his wrists out whatever was holding him, and stood up. Carefully, she began dragging him behind her, to the van. He saw at least five dead agents. The three who had attacked him, and two from the car. She had done that. She had helped him. She pushed him into the passenger's seat, pulling the seat belt over him, and taking a moment to make sure he was okay. Her hand lingered on his for moment, before she stepped away, shutting the door. She walked around the front, sliding into the driver's seat, starting up the van, and leaving the warehouse behind. As he watched her drive with half lidded eyes, trying to stay awake despite the oblivion of unconsciousness calling, he knew he had his answer to his earlier question.

Who was Cara Fox?

She was something else. Something like him.

* * *

Bucky woke up back in the hotel room, his muscles feeling like they were on fire. He groaned, and felt around on his chest. It was covered in bandages, and he knew that there were more on his back, each where the rod had hit. The skin had probably been burned, and would scar.

He looked to his left, and saw Cara, sitting at the table, typing away on a computer. Another woman sat with her, and they were talking softly. The woman looked up, meeting his gaze, and he recognized her as Sybil. She nudged Cara, nodding in his direction.

"Prince Charming awakens," she said. Cara's head snapped up, and she stared at him, before rising slowly, walking to his side.

"You okay?" she said, standing beside him, but not sitting or making any move to touch him. He sat up slowly, nodding. He tried his left hand, flexing his fingers, and was surprised to see them move. Cara watched him.

"Sybil worked on it," she said. "She likes robotics, and it was smoking when I got there, the rods burned out the circuiting..." she trailed off, glancing at Sybil, who shrugged as she packed up her stuff.

"It was a mess," Sybil said. "She dragged you in here, all unconscious and beat up, and your arm looked like it was on fire. But I think I did good." She spoke coolly, with a slight reservation, and the way she looked him confirmed that she knew who he was. She was probably SHIELD too, or was, at least. He didn't know what was left of it. Everyone who was smart should have gotten out by now.

He nodded curtly, a silent thanks, turning his attention back to Cara. She met his gaze, shifting nervously.

"You scared me," Cara said. "I thought they killed you back there."

"They didn't," he said shortly.

"I know. I can see that. But you didn't see it," she said. "Not how I did."

"You shouldn't have been there at all," he said harshly, facade slipping slightly. "I told you to stay away from me. I could've handled it."

"Right," she said, rolling her eyes. "Because you were doing a great job of that."

Sybil coughed from across the room, interrupting them, one hand already on the door handle.

"So," she said, drawing the word out. "This is getting awkward, and I'm gonna go. My work's done. Um. Hope you guys get over this? Also, Bucky Barnes, I don't care that you're a senior citizen or an assassin or whatever, you hurt my friend, I will kill you in your sleep. Bye."

Neither of them responded to her. The door opened and closed. He looked down at the bandages on him. The looked like they had been hastily done with what she had lying around, basically surgical tape and gauze. He picked at one on his ribs, to see how bad the damage was underneath, but Cara reached forward, stopping his placing her hand on top of his, and shooing him away. Carefully, she fixed it, fingers lingering on his skin before pulling away sharply. He stared at her, until she sat down next to him. Minutes passed before she spoke.

"Bucky," she began, as if pleading with him.

"Don't," he said. "Don't."

"Bucky, are you okay?"

He almost laughed. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

"That's not...That's not what I meant," she said. "I mean... I don't know."

"You want to know if I could ever forgive you."

She nodded.

He spoke carefully. "No."

She shut her eyes. "Why?"

"You lied to me. You're one of them."

"I'm not. Please, I was never one of them."

"You keep saying you're not, but am I honestly supposed to believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

"I told you. Not everything was a lie," she said, looking at him again.

He snorted. "Right. I believe you."

Her eyes flashed, as she began to lose her temper. "You weren't exactly honest with me either," she said, now glaring at him. "How long were you planning on keeping it a secret that you were the Winter Soldier. Get me in bed again, maybe? Wait until we're settled down and married? Never? I told you. It was killing me, carrying that around. It was killing me, so I told you. And you, you didn't even consider that you were lying to me, not when a HYDRA agent breaks in, not after all those nightmares. If I had been a real civilian, this life would have killed me, and I would never even have known why."

He flinched. "That's not tru-... That's different."

"How so, _Winter Soldier_?" she said. "Tell me how you wanting to keep your past away from us is any different from me doing it?"

He glared at her, and sharply leaned forward, kissing her if only to shut her up, pouring his pain, and anger, and confusion into it. She reacted instantly, she felt those emotions, as she slid her hands into his hair. He didn't know if he hated her. He didn't know if he just hated who she used to be. He didn't even know if he still loved her , but he was kissing her again, and it was different, because she was different. His Cara was gone. She never existed. She had just been a lie, and now, this stranger, wearing her face, the face of the woman he loved, was here instead. She was a ghost of an idea, and she was here instead. It wasn't fair. He broke away, gasping, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Tell me everything."

"What?" she said.

"Tell me everything. Tell me who you are. I need to know who you are."

"It's not a happy story," she said. "And you might not like what you hear."

"I _need_ to know. I need to understand."

He pulled away from her, leaning against headboard, bracing his arms against his knees. He was not asking. It was a demand. If she refused, he would leave, for good, and she knew it. She sighed, lying back, next to him, covering her face with her hands as if to hide.

"Tell me who you are, Cara Fox."

**A/N: ** Right. The moment like everyone said they were waiting for. That was fun. Hope I didn't disappoint anyone. And this is like only the beginning. We'll be seeing the fall out of this for a bit, at least until Bucky can figure out whatever's going on with his feelings.

Put Sybil in for comic relief, because frankly, we all needed it.

And if you've been waiting to see Cara's backstory, all (well most) will be revealed next chapter.


	32. Resisting This Decay

**A/N:**_Ditmas_ by Mumford and Sons

_Tell me who you are, Cara Fox._

"That's... That's the problem, Bucky," she said, taking her hands off her face to stare listlessly up at the ceiling. "I don't know who I am."

"Why?" he said. He said it too coldly, and Cara knew it.

"I was an agent. Identity was something you changed depending on what you needed. People like me, we don't get the luxury of permanence. You change or you die, you have no choice, and when you stop, when you get out, you're nothing. I'm nothing."

"You're not nothing," he said. "You have a story, we all do. You owe it to me. It's not fair. You know where I came from, and how I became... this, but I know nothing about you. You _owe_ me that."

Cara did not speak for a few minutes. She clasped her hands on her chest, entwining her fingers. Her body language was perfectly relaxed, and if he didn't know better, he wouldn't even think that she was nervous. But her eyes said differently, anxious and in pain. In pain because of him.

"'Like one who, on a lonely road, doth walk in fear and dread,'" she said finally. "'And, having once turned round, walks on, and turns no more his head; Because he knows a frightful fiend doth close behind him tread.'"

She paused, turning to glance at him. Her green eyes flashed in the dim light, the curtains still drawn tight.

"Mary Shelley used that in Frankenstein. You read that part, right? Where Victor Frankenstein brings his monster to life?"

He nodded, not sure where she was going with this.

"It's about isolation. Fear. Being alone, at least from one point of view," she said. "Some other people think that it's saying don't be too ambitious when it comes to the hunt for knowledge, or it'll haunt you forever...What do you know about the Deathless?" She changed topics quickly. He could tell that she wanted to get this over with.

"He's dangerous," he said. "A scientist or a magician, or something, I don't know. No one will tell me exactly what he does. But he wants you for some reason."

"His name used to be Viktor Stravinsky. He worked on the supersoldier project back in World War II. He was trying to replicate it, or improve it, maybe, I don't know. His idea was that rather than improve an already flawed group of people, you could just create perfect ones from scratch. Breed a group of supersoldiers. But he was insane, really insane, and his experiments weren't exactly... humane. When they found out about them, he was fired, and they tried to arrest him, but he escaped. Ran off to Russia and started a cult, because _of course _hedid. Kept on trying to do whatever he was doing, although he never succeeded in getting a perfect little weapon, or even something that was just perfect." She paused, and breathed out slowly. "He got me instead."

Bucky stared at her, trying to comprehend what she was saying. "You're...?"

"Not a supersoldier. Not like you," she said, cutting him off. "But I was the only one of his experiments to have survived infancy. I wasn't perfect though, not even if I lived, at least not in his eyes, and on and on and _on_ it went. My hair used to be blonde, did you know that? That was the original genes he used. Blonde hair. But he wanted it to look like fire, because, like I said, _insanity_. I had to have my entire genetic code rewritten for a color change. And he gave me better eyesight too. Won't ever need glasses, good eye hand coordination," she said, laughing bitterly. "Most people get powers or something when they have a maniac experiment on them. What do I get? Red hair, a trigger finger, and a lifetime of issues."

He didn't know what to say. What_ could _he say_?_

"How old were you? When you got out?" he finally managed.

"Six. Seven. Something like that. SHIELD had been investigating him for a while. Death cults seem to draw attention, especially when people start disappearing. Didn't know about me, though. They put me into school, with several family about a year later. Joined SHIELD academy when I was fourteen. Became an actual agent at eighteen. Not a very good one. I couldn't fight well, and wasn't responding to any of my trainers. Natasha Romanoff was the only one I listened to."

He was quiet for a second. "I know her," he said. "She was the woman on the bridge. And I knew her before... I can't remember that."

"Right," she said, as if suddenly realizing something. "The Red Room. I think they brought you in to train them at one point. And you shot her once, while you were on a mission."

He shuddered, shaking his head, not wanting to think about those. Slowly, he got up, walking to table, pulling back a chair. She watched him, turning so that she could face him, lying on her side, as she continued her story.

"I got a team, ran some missions. I was a spy, or something like that. I like to think that I was good at illusions. Everyone looked at me and saw what they wanted to see. I helped people, or I like to think I did, but good things don't last forever. The Battle of New York happened in 2012, and my partner, Amatus, faced off with Loki alone like an idiot and got himself thrown off the helicarrier, and the rest of my team... Sybil left to work for Stark, and Sophia, she had her own problems, and Cassius, well, he had been gone for a long time. I was the last one left, and I was still a spy, because that was all I knew. Then SHIELD went down, and now I'm not. I don't know what I am anymore. I've been a few hundred people in my life and not one of them has felt like the real me. At least, not until I got out. Not until I met you."

He rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. She waited for a reply, and when she got none, sat up.

"Bucky," she said. "Say something."

"Like what?"

"Anything," she said, almost begging. "Anything."

"I'm... I'm sorry for what happened to you," he said. "But it doesn't fix things. You lied to me."

She nodded, hesitating. "I know," she said. "You wouldn't have trusted me though, if I hadn't. You would have killed me on sight."

"Then why go after me in the first place?"

"Because," she said. "I know what it's like to have nothing. And I knew that you were still a good man. I saw you save Steve. You didn't need to do that, but you did."

He looked away from her quickly, staring at his hands in front of him. The metal one looked darker in this light. He hated it. The silence stretched on for minutes, until she finally spoke again.

"I bought us train tickets," she said quietly.

"Us?" he said, harsher than he meant to. She flinched.

"I was... I-We're staying together, aren't we?" she said, uncharacteristically stumbling slightly over her words.

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Just for a little while," she said. "Just until we can figure something else out."

"Why?"

"Because... I thought that we could."

"Yeah, and what's in it for me?" he said.

She paused. "I have some information on HYDRA," she said. He stared at her.

"What?"

"I asked Sybil to get the locations of a few bases. She works for Tony Stark-"

"Howard's kid," he said. That memory of watching the car crash came back to him, of finishing the job. He tried to keep his face even. He failed.

"Yeah. The Avengers are clearing out what they can, and Sybil can feed us information when she gets it. She already knows about a base upstate. We can start there."

"Why would you do this?" he asked. "Why would you help me?"

She laughed darkly. "You want a list? HYDRA has been hurting good people for too long. I don't know how many SHIELD agents they killed when they took over, but those were my friends. And they're working with the Deathless, meaning they are a direct threat to my safety. I hate them and you hate them. They've have found me once before, they'll do it again. I know they will. There's no point for me to be in hiding anymore. So that means that I'm free to wipe those filthy bastards off the map. If I'm going to be hunted, I'm going down fighting. Problem is, I can't do it by myself. Everyone else I know is busy, a traitor, or dead. You may hate me, but you're all I have left."

"So, you what, you need me?"

"You hate them more than I do," she said, sitting up. "I'm offering you chance to take them out."

He leaned back in his chair, thinking. That was what he wanted. More than anything. He wanted them gone. He wanted them to pay for what they did to him.

"Fine," he said shortly. "But it doesn't make us what we were. You're not her."

Her breath caught. "Bucky," she said quietly.

"You're not _her_."

"_I am,_ though. This is all I ever was," she said. "This was me. You just saw what you wanted to see, what you _needed_ to see. That's how the illusion works. But this is all I ever was, and now you see that."

He glared at her. "You're not her."

"Stop it," she said, raising her voice slightly.

"You are not the woman who I met. You're someone else, and I'll deal with you like I would any stranger," he said. "But this isn't me forgiving you. You have only information I need. I need to take them down, and you're right, neither of us can do it alone. But when it's over, I'm gone. And we will never see each other again."

She shut her eyes for a moment, before nodding quickly. "I know," she said quietly, standing up, running her hand through her hair. "I know."

She walked to the bathroom, the door closing with a gentle click. He sighed the moment she was out of earshot, leaning forward, shutting his eyes. His head was hurting again, and he really did not want to get sic, not right now. He didn't want her taking care of him. Wasn't that supposed to be his mission? Watching out for her? What was he supposed to do now? She didn't need him.

He had been wasting his time with her.

Even as he thought that, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

She had needed his help. That nightmare hadn't been an act, had it? Or when she had tried to fight the HYDRA agent, or just today, when she had called him? And when she had stumbled back to the apartment, weeks ago... Had that just been a regular mugging, or had she been fighting something else? He pressed the base of his palms to his forehead, groaning, his metal hand sharp and cold, contrasting to the warmth of the other one.

He hated this.

The sound of shattering glass shook him out of his daze. He stood up quickly. It came from the bathroom.

"Cara?" he called out, walking cautiously to the door. He rattled the handle. It was locked. She didn't answer him. He tried again, desperation creeping into his tone. "Cara. Open the door."

She wasn't saying anything. Shit. What was she doing?

"Cara, open the door!" he said, but before he could do anything, the lock clicked, and it swung open. Cara started at him. Her hand, the one that was bandaged from her fight with the HYDRA agent, was bleeding. The mirror was shattered, flecks of red staining some of the shards.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"I punched the mirror," she said, matter-of-factly. He grabbed her hand, looking the cuts on her knuckles. They weren't deep. It wasn't dangerous.

"Stupid," he muttered, letting it drop to her side. "Why?"

She looked away from him, not answering his question. "I'm going to take a shower. You can join me, or you can get out." She said it coldly. Not like the Cara he was used to. She was mad at him.

Maybe he deserved it.

Maybe they both deserved this.

"Who are you?" he said again. He didn't know quite what he was asking, but the words fell from his mouth anyways.

"You know who I am-"

"No. I know Cara Fox. You're not her. You're her ghost."

"Bucky. That woman I was. She's dead. Cara Fletcher died with SHIELD. Cara Fox is all that's left. _This is me,_" she said, so calmly it hurt. There were no tears, not like before, when she had been sobbing as she told him that she had lied, fallen in the doorway. "I gave us a normal life. Even if it was for a little bit. I gave us what we both wanted. And yes, I lied to do that, and I'm sorry, but I'd do it again. If it meant keeping you safe, I'd do anything."

"See?" he said. "How can I trust you when you say things like that?'

"I don't care if you trust me," she said, and her voice cracked, the facade slipped slightly. She tightened her hand, making blood drip to the floor. "I don't even care if you like me. All I want now is for you to be safe. I can't let them get you. I will die before I let that happen."

"_Why_, though? What am I to you?"

"You're Bucky," she whispered.

"Is that it?"

"You are Bucky. _My Bucky._ My Winter Soldier."

He slammed his hand down on the table, the metal echoing loudly. She didn't flinch. "I'm not yours. I'm no one's."

She shut her eyes, clearly regretting her choice of words. "You're Bucky. I lo... You're all I have left. Please. You promised you wouldn't hate me."

He fell silent, and thought about her asking that, wrapped in his arms. He _had_ promised her that, as she begged him in her panicked, half conscious state.

Could he really hate Cara, no matter what she had done?

He didn't know the answer to that.

_You promised you wouldn't hate me. _

So he simply looked at her, and said quietly, "I know."

**A/N: **This chapter was emotionally taxing to write, so I just slipped as many Mumford lyrics in as I could. If you are still confused by Cara's backstory, don't worry. I am too. I'll keep fleshing it out in later chapters.

This week has been hell and I didn't really sleep last night, I'm so sorry for the wait. At least my internet is back. I was trying to post this last night, but the internet decided to break. Thank you for reading!


	33. Shattered

**A/N:** _Winter Sound_ by Of Monsters and Men

"You're not _her_," Bucky was saying. He wasn't looking at her like he used to. He was being so cold. She didn't know if he knew what he was doing. But God, it hurt.

"_I am,_ though. This is all I ever was," she said, trying to keep calm. "This was me. You just saw what you wanted to see, what you _needed_ to see. That's how the illusion works. But this is all I ever was, and now you see that."

"You're not her." He said it with absolute certainty.

"Stop it," she said, and she could feel her control slip, voice rising. _Stop it, Bucky. Stop it, stop it, STOP IT._

"You are not the woman who I met. You're someone else, and I'll deal with you like I would any stranger," he said. "But this isn't me forgiving you. You have only information I need. I need to take them down, and you're right, neither of us can do it alone. But when it's over, I'm gone. And we will never see each other again."

_Stop it._

_Please._

_Stop._

She shut her eyes, before nodding. "I know," she said, as she stood up, running her hand through her hair. "I know."

She needed to get away from him. She needed to escape those poisoned words, those sad eyes.

_Why did you ever think that this would be a good idea?_

_Why did you have to choose him?_

_He doesn't even realize what he's doing, does he?_

She walked to the bathroom, and closed the door, immediately leaning against the sink. He hated her. He hated her. She had lost him. She looked up at her reflection, her own face staring back at her accusingly. She took a few shuddering breaths, desperately trying to get control over herself again.

"You did this," she said, to her reflection. "You did this. I did this."

She couldn't stand it anymore.

Her hand lashed out, shattering the glass. Some of it stuck in her knuckles, but she couldn't feel it. Only the blood running down her wrist. Staring down at her hand, she heard Bucky calling her name. She could hear him trying the door. "Cara. Open the door."

She ignored him. She didn't think that she could deal with any of his bullshit right now. She could barely handle her own. Her reflection glared at her from all the broken pieces.

"Cara, open the door!"

She turned to it, unlocking it. He stared at her, and for a moment, he looked terrified. He covered it up quickly though, as cold and unfeeling as he had been before.

"What did you do?" he said.

"I punched the mirror," she said, not really in the mood for this. He reached for her hand, looking the cuts the mirror had left. He looked back up at her, and for a moment, she could pretend that this was the same, that _they_ were the same. His fingers brushed over the cuts. She didn't flinch.

"Stupid," he said. The illusion shattered like the mirror. He let go of her hand, and it fell limply to her side. "Why?"

_Don't ask._

_You don't want to know._

_I know you don't._

"I'm going to take a shower," she said. "You can join me, or you can get out." She couldn't find the energy to beg him for forgiveness anymore. He had made it very clear he wasn't going to give it.

"Who are you?" he said again.

_What else do you want from me, Bucky? _she thought. She wanted to scream it at him, shake his shoulders, do anything to get him to understand.

"You know who I am-"

"No. I know Cara Fox. You're not her. You're her ghost."

"Bucky. That woman I was. She's dead. Cara Fletcher died with SHIELD. Cara Fox is all that's left. _This is me,_" she said. She kept her face impassive, barely containing the dull ache in her chest. "I gave us a normal life. Even if it was for a little bit. I gave us what we both wanted. And yes, I lied to do that, and I'm sorry, but I'd do it again. If it meant keeping you safe, I'd do anything."

"See?" he said. "How can I trust you when you say things like that?'

"I don't care if you trust me," she said, hating how her voice cracked. She tightened her hand into a fist, trying to regain control. "I don't even care if you like me. All I want now is for you to be safe. I can't let them get you. I will die before I let that happen."

"_Why_, though? What am I to you?"

"You're Bucky," she whispered.

"Is that it?"

"You are Bucky. _My Bucky._ My Winter Soldier."

He slammed his hand in the doorframe, the metal echoing loudly. She didn't flinch. "I'm not yours. I'm no one's."

She shut her eyes. That had been the wrong thing to say, and she knew it why. "You're Bucky. I lo... You're all I have left. Please. You promised you wouldn't hate me."

He stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes dark, but not cold. He looked so sad. He was a liar too. They all were. They all had to be, to survive.

"I know," he said finally.

God. How could two simple words hurt that much?

* * *

That had been over two hours ago, and the tense silence had not lifted. It was late, but Bucky didn't think he would be sleeping tonight. Tomorrow he and Cara were going to go take down a HYDRA base. He couldn't tell if the sensation in his stomach was nervousness or a dark excitement. They were going to pay for what they did.

"Train leaves tomorrow at 8," Cara said suddenly. Her hair still slightly wet from the shower, and she sat at the table, her friend's computer in front of her. She had been staring at it for a while now, clearly ignoring him. He sat next to her, although it was clear that neither of them were comfortable. She picked at the cuts on her knuckles.

"Stop that," he said, reaching over, batting her hand away.

She rolled her eyes, continuing what she was saying. "We're going undercover. You ever do any missions like that?"

"No, not that I can remember," he said. "Not exactly my specialty."

"Leave it to me then," she said. She reached into her pocket, taking something out. "Little things can sell a cover, and we're going to play this one until we take down the base. I got Sybil to get these for us."

She reached over, placing something into his palm. He stared down at it. It was a simple gold ring, glinting in the light. A wedding ring. He swallowed heavily, closing his hand tightly around it.

"We're going to play a newly wed couple," she said. "On a trip together."

"Why newly wed?"

"They'll make certain assumptions if we disappear for a while, and won't ask questions," she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "You can choose your name, if you want."

"Can't I just keep James?" he said. "I don't want to give it up... Even for a bit."

"That won't work," she said, looking slightly apologetic. She knew what it meant to him. "You're listed as James in their files. If they see a man who looks like their Winter Soldier, calling himself James, it'll ring every alarm bell in the place."

"Please, Cara," he said. "Don't make me lose my name. "

She looked at him, and he saw something click in her head. "Alright," she said quietly. "James then. Different last name, though."

"Fine," he said, crossing his arms. He still held the ring, the metal pressing into his palm. Silence fell again, as Cara typed away, setting up where they would stay, their cover, carefully planning out how they were going to strike at HYDRA. He was doing research of his own, learning strategic weaknesses, escape routes, hiding places in the area, etcetera.

She stood up, shutting the lid to the laptop. "We don't have anything to do until we leave."

He hummed a dull reply. "Yeah."

"I need a drink."

"There's water in the fridge."

"I mean, I'm going down to the bar. You can come if you want. You can stay up here. I don't care."

"Can't get drunk," he said. "Trust me, when I first got out, I tried."

"Okay," she said, as she walked to the door.

"Cara," Bucky said. "I... Just, be careful. I don't care if you say this place is safe. It isn't. No where is."

"I know."

"No," he muttered. "You don't. Not like I do."

He looked down. If he wanted to, none of these rules would be able to stop him from killing Cara. He wouldn't, though... He couldn't. He'd be angry with her, yell and scream at her, eventually leave her, but he would never hurt her. He wasn't that sort of monster. She didn't deserve to die. Not by his hands. The thought of that brought back memories of the dream he had had the night before, of her bleeding in his arms. He shuddered. He didn't want that. He didn't ever want that to ever happen.

By the time he looked up, she was gone. The door was shut. He shut his eyes.

How much longer could he keep doing this?

* * *

About an hour after Cara left, someone knocked on the door. He looked up, walking cautiously towards the door, before opening it a crack. The man from the front desk looked at him coolly.

"Yes?" Bucky said cautiously.

"Are you..." the man said, glancing down at a piece of clipboard. "A Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky nodded slowly.

"An associate of Ms. Cara Fox?"

He nodded again. "Yes."

"Well, I would like to inform you that Ms. Fox has left the hotel, rather intoxicated, after starting a fight in the bar downstairs. We expect one of you to pay for the damages."

Bucky blinked. "What?"

"Ms. Fox had a confrontation with-"

"She left?"

"-Another guest, and broke several chairs, glasses, and bottles-"

"No, I know, I'll pay for it," he said. "Where did she go?"

"-And broke said other guest nose," the man finished. "Yes. I mentioned that she was intoxicated, although that feels like a slight understatement."

"Dammit," Bucky hissed, turning around to find a jacket, and a baseball cap.

"Before I can let you leave," the man said. "I need you to pay for said damages."

"Not now," Bucky said. "She's going to get herself killed or taken. Dammit, Fox."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barnes," the man said. "But you must pay for the damages left by Ms. Fox."

"I will," he snapped, hands tightening at his sides. "I'll pay double if you get out of my way."

"Unfortunately," the man said. "That is not how this works. Now, if you continue to be difficult, I will be forced to detain you."

"Fine!" Bucky said. "What do I need to do?"

"Well, you need to pay back... An estimated $2000, and write an official apology to Mr. Tarasov on behalf of Ms. Fox."

"Look, I swear, I can do that later, but right now, my... friend is out there, alone, and I need to make sure that she doesn't get herself killed."

The man sighed heavily, writing something down on the paper. "It can be done before you check out, I suppose, if you really must go _now_. But if you forget, there will be... consequences."

Bucky nodded, and pushed past him. "Deal. Now kindly, _sir_, get out of the way before I punch your lights out."

The man did so with surprising agility.

* * *

Cara had only wandered down the street. She had went to the bar downstairs, but had hit the legal limit, picked a fight with a douchebag member of the mob, and been kicked out. It was stupid, leaving the Continental, but she was drunk and stupid and tired, and didn't really care anymore.

She told herself it wasn't running away. She told herself she was better than that.

Finding a bar nearby was relatively easy. Finding a quiet corner in it was even harder, but she managed, pressed up against the wall, staring at the glass in her hands, and feeling sorry for herself.

"Hey," a voice slurred next to her. She didn't look up. "You look lonely."

"I'm not," she said shortly. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She had come here to get away from Bucky, and to stop thinking about him by means of copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn't working.

"C'mon, babe," it said. She turned to the speaker. It was a very drunk man, who was grinning at her. "You're sitting here all alone. Bad breakup?"

She turned away, leaning closer into the wall. "I _want_ to be alone."

"No one wants to be alone," he said, close to her ear, breath smelling like cheap liquor. He put his hand on the small her back. She tensed.

"Don't," she said. "Don't touch me."

"Here," he said, reaching for her glass. His fingers brushed the glass, and she jerked back sharply. "Let me get you a new one."

"No," she said. "I'm fine."

"Alright, alright," he said, lifting up his hands in a mock surrender, yet not making any move to make. "Sorry. Calm down."

Cara looked down at the glass, before bringing it up to her lips. The second it touched her tongue, she knew something was wrong. There was something wrong. She let it slip from her hand, watching it fall to the ground as if in slow motion. The glass shattered, and the liquid spilled, hissing and steaming. He had tried to poison her. Or he had succeeded. She didn't notice. The room began to spin. She looked up in horror. The drunk man was suddenly no longer drunk, staring at her like a shark circling its prey. His hand shot out, latching onto her wrist.

_Shit._

"Let take this outside," he whispered, and began to drag her away. No one noticed.

_Move, you can do it, _she thought, and managed to pull free from his grasp. The effort made her stumble back. Her back hit the bar.

"Get away from me," she said, loudly. She knew she wasn't in any shape to fight. Getting attention might make this more difficult for him. Her gaze drifted around. Several people turned their attention to them. There was one woman staring at them with the same look as the man. Cara saw the gun under her jacket. There was no one else, as far as she could tell, but honestly, she probably couldn't be trusted right now. The world was kind of lopsided.

The woman subtly took out her handgun, pointing it at Cara's chest so that no one else could see the threat, giving her a small, smile, as she walked to her side.

"I think we should do what my friend said, and take this outside," she whispered in her ear. "If you don't want to end up riddled with bullet holes, that is."

They both grabbed her wrists, and dragged her out the door. She walked unsteadily, and stumbled. They let her fall down into an alley, dark and far away from anyone who could help her.

"Where is he?" the man.

Cara shook her head, struggling to her feet. "He left me."

"Liar," the woman said, lifting the gun up. "Your boyfriend's worth more than you could know. Don't think I won't kill you if you get in my way of that. I don't want to, but I will."

Cara had to take a moment to breath out, glad they were just bounty hunters (again. Seriously, how many times would she have to go through this?) and didn't know who she was.

"We had a fight, and he left me. I don't know where," she said, letting her voice rise in pitch.

"I saw him go to the Continental with you."

"And he slipped away after that. I wish I knew where he was, please, I really do," she said. "But he's gone, and I'm never going to see him again."

"Where is he hiding?"

Before she could say or do anything else, the man toppled to the ground, knife buried in his back. Someone stood at the entrance of the alley.

Bucky. She grinned, began laughing.

"Whose says anything about hiding?" Bucky said, stalking forward. The woman kept her gun on Cara, looking slightly shaken.

"Stop," she said. Bucky froze. "Or your girlfriend dies."

"I'm not his girlfriend," Cara mumbled.

"Let her go," Bucky said, slowly raising his hands. "Let her go, and I'll go quietly."

"I'm not leaving you, Bucky," Cara said.

"You're right," the woman said. "She's not."

"No," Bucky said, jaw clenching. His eyes darted from Cara to the gun, and back again. "Please. Let her go."

"You see that dead shit there?" the woman said. "That was my partner. And you killed him. Now I have a gun on her. Why shouldn't I pull the trigger?" She took pressed the gun into Cara's head.

"Don't hurt her," Bucky said, and she could hear him getting desperate. "I'll do anything. I'll do anything you ask. Just don't hurt her."

"What's to stop me?" she said, and she began to laugh. Cara grabbed her arm, twisting it so the gun clattered to the floor. She spun around, kicking her in the face, before grabbing the gun. The woman fell to the ground, and the made Cara fall to the side. Bucky was there, catching her, holding her tightly.

Cara stared at the gun in her hands. She knew what she had to do. She had done this before. She looked up at Bucky, who was staring at her, waiting to see what she did.

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, stepping away from him unsteadily.

"You're one of them," she hissed to the woman. "You're one of them."

Bucky put his hand on her shoulder. She tensed.

"Cara," he said. "Hey. She's not a threat to us. We don't need to do that. It's okay. Give me the gun."

"I won't let them win," she said.

"You don't have to kill her," Bucky said. "Cara. You don't have to. Don't kill someone if you don't have to."

"Is that what _you_ do?" she snapped. She saw him flinch out of the corner of her eye.

"It's what I try to do... Now, at least," he said. "Cara. She can't hurt you now." Cara stared at the woman, lying unconscious on the ground, blood pouring out of a cut on her head, arm broken, partner dead at her side. Cara felt sick.

"I..." she said, and he shook his head, gently prying the gun from her hands, her arms falling limply to her sides. "She won't forgive us."

"It doesn't matter," he said. "She won't _find_ us."

"I don't want another enemy."

"Cara, you're someone like me. You don't really have a say in who wants you dead."

She began to walk forward slowly. "Call Sybil. Tell her to send a cleaner here."

He did so, talking lowly into the phone, following her. Cara could here her friend screaming at Bucky, telling him how idiotic they both were, and how she wasn't always going to be around to clean up their messes, among other things.

It brought a smile to her face, and then she began to laugh, loudly, in the middle of the street. Bucky hung up, stepping in front of her. She stared, at him, and doubled over, laughing. Laughing. Laughing. He took her face in his hands. She reached up, holding onto his wrists, grinning broadly.

"Cara?" he said, and she noted that his eyes were very pretty. At the back of her mind said that the reason that he was staring at her was to check the dilation of her pupils, but all could think about was his eyes.

She smiled up at him. "Hey, Bucky," she said, and her voice felt distant.

"Let's get back," he said shortly, looking vaguely uncomfortable. He turned around, holding her arm tightly, and she followed, humming brightly. The streets has some other people, and no one paid them much mind. When they reached the lobby, she vaguely noticed the man at the front desk giving her a disapproving look, shaking his head.

Bucky was silent until the reached the room. He let her go, and she walked in, not really sure where she was going, until she leaned against the wall next to the radio.

"That was fun," she said. "Should do that more often."

"You got into a fight, and nearly got kidnapped," he said.

"No... I almost got shot. You almost got kidnapped."

"Right, because that's better," he said. "How much did you drink, anyways?"

"Enough to probably die," she said brightly. She didn't catch the flicker of concern and pain that crossed over his face. She was too busy pressing buttons on the radio, until a song came on. She spun around, not nearly on the beat, nearly falling to the ground, he lunged forward, and caught her.

"We should go dancing, Bucky. Dance with me."

She grabbed his hands, attempting to spin him. He simply stood there stiffly, as she leaned up, their noses brushing.

"You have such pretty eyes," she said. "I like it when you smile." She pressed her lips against his, and he was frozen for a moment, before pulling back sharply.

"Not right now," he said. Her face fell for a moment, before she was talking again.

"You're pretty," she said, pressing her head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. "Pretty, and dangerous, and you deserved _so much more than all of this_, and I love you, I just wish I could make you happy."

He paused looking back at her. "What did you say?"

"You deserve more than all of this," she said. "You should be back in the time you grew up in, and a real family, with a real wife who isn't like me, and kids and everything else I can't give you. You didn't deserve to have HYDRA do that shit. You're too good. You're too good for me. It's probably a good thing you're leaving. I would _ruin_ you."

"No," he said. "What did you say at the end?"

"I love you," she said, as if it was obvious. "I love you, and I don't even know what that really feels like, but I know it. I know I love you. You hate me, and you'll be going away, and I'll still love you, even when you're gone."

He stared at her, and he slowly wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he stepped back quickly, turning around so she couldn't see his face.

"You know what, Bucky Barnes?" she said, and she wasn't even sure he was listening to her anymore. "I think we're going to make it."

**A/N: **So this took a long time, and I'm sorry about that. I am under a tom of stress at school right now (there's actually a chance I might not graduate high school, because of one standardized test I didn't take... if that happens i'm running away to join Panic! at the Disco as their cowbell player... UGH, school, why you hurt me like this).

Let's hope that the next chapter can be up sooner, because it's gonna get craaaazy, and I'm excited. Thank you all so much for your feedback, and I'm really sorry I haven't really been replying to reviews. I'll try to be better about that from now on. I do read and love every single one, so even I don't reply, don't think I don't!

See you all next time.


	34. Fight For This World

**A/N:** _Baby Blue_ by Cage the Elephant

Steve sighed as he sat down heavily at the table, groaning. Sam collapsed in the chair next to him, covered in ash and grime, looking like he could barely stay awake much longer. Natasha was already sitting down, resting her head on her arms. Her normally red hair looked almost gray from dirt. Steve knew he didn't look much better than either of them. They had a lead that said that Bucky was in an old HYDRA base underneath New York. It was wrong, for one thing, and ended up being filled with explosives, and careless HYDRA operatives who shot at them. Then, it exploded. It hadn't been his fault. (Well... He had pressed the button that caused the explosion during a fight, but _technically_, it wasn't his fault.)

No one was hurt, thank God, but Sam and Nat had nearly been buried alive, and he himself had been thrown a good distance. (He didn't tell them that how, as he frantically dug through the rubble, cutting and scraping up his hands, that he had been scared. More like petrified. He had thought he had lost them both, two of his closest teammates, and he didn't think that he'd be allowed anymore do overs with his friends lives. Bucky surviving was miracle. Hell, _he himself_ was a miracle. He had more than his fair share.)

They were now hiding in Clint's (empty) apartment. Natasha knew where he kept his spare key (behind a fake brick that was actually pretty obvious, now that he thought about it), and said cryptically that he was staying somewhere else, either dealing with the SHIELD fall out, or at one of his other homes. She said that he wouldn't mind them staying here for a night or two, and that it was "relatively safe, save for the occasional mobster".

So here they were.

"Well, that went well," Steve said. Sam snorted, and Nat looked up slowly, pretending to be unamused, although her lips twitched slightly.

"Right," Sam said. "Could've been worse. We could be dead."

"I thought we _were_ dead," Natasha said, glaring at Steve. "When you made the building fall on us."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey. I apologized."

"If you see a big red button, Steve," she said. "_Don't press it. _This is how we lost out quinjet."

"I thought we decided that that was Darcy's fault," Sam chimed in. Steve shot him a grateful look.

"Yes, _Natasha_," Steve said. "She pressed the self-destruct button. Not me. And I wasn't the one watching her. That was you... If my memory serves me right."

"I'm not a babysitter," she said, rolling her eyes. "Although, hanging out with you two sure makes me feel like one. дети. Both of you."

"In _my_ day, we respected our elders," Steve said, smirking. "I'm older than you, young lady."

"Sure, Rogers. Only play up the age card when it suits you."

"I don't know, Tasha," Sam said. "You started this one."

"You're both terrible," Natasha said, shutting her eyes and putting her head back down. "Terrible, terrible children." She said it again in Russian, while yawning.

Steve shook his head, smiling. It still felt forced, after not having done it in a very long time.

They still hadn't found Bucky, chasing ghosts across the entire world, and Steve had to admit, that a few weeks ago, he had been losing hope. That's when him and Sam caught a HYDRA agent while infiltrating an old laboratory on an abandoned Island, and he had told them that Bucky was in New York. After so many false leads, Steve wasn't sure, and didn't want to hope. But then, as they searched the crumbling building, they found surveillance pictures of Bucky. They were fairly recent too. Most were blurry, faint. Bucky obviously knew how not to be found. But there were two were his face was clearly displayed. He looked different in both, his hair longer, eyes shadowed. In the first one he was alone, looking distraught. Steve could see a graveyard in the background. He himself had been there. That's where his mother, and father, and Bucky's parents and sister had been buried. If Bucky had been there, it meant that he remembered something, right? In the second, he was with someone, a redheaded woman who was in a few others, but never looked at the camera. Bucky was smiling down at her fondly, his hands on her hips, and hers on his shoulders. Steve had shook his head. Only Bucky Barnes could go through what he had, and then manage to pick up a girl within a month of escaping.

It had given him some hope. Bucky was remembering. Bucky, by the looks of things, was was recovering. And best of all, now he knew where to find him.

Natasha had caught up to them soon after that. She had been working with Stark and Banner on damage control, and from what he understood, there was still some agents of SHIELD operational and fighting. Thor had come back for a few weeks too, although Steve had only talked to him a few times. They had all been busy. Maybe that was for the best.

Sam glanced at him. "You okay, man?" he said, bringing him back to the present.

"I was just thinking about our next move."

"There's a base upstate," Natasha said. "If HYDRA does have him, and they weren't keeping him here, they might have him up there."

"Yeah," Sam said. "But they might not even _have_ him. He could be out here, perfectly fine."

"They knew exactly where he was, Sam," Steve said. "Why wouldn't they take him?"

"Look," Sam said. "I said it before we went to the last place, which was Barnes-free, if you didn't notice. They couldn't barely get two good pictures of him, and I doubt they have enough resources at this point to track him completely, let alone bring him in. It would take a large team to do that, and I think we would have noticed. I'm just saying, maybe we should poke around the city a bit more."

"We can always come back if it turns out to be a bust," Natasha said, standing up slowly. "But we should at least look. If Barnes is there, we need to get him out ASAP."

Steve appreciated that she left out what what they were all thinking. That a rogue Winter Soldier was very dangerous to HYDRA, and that if they got their hands on him, there was a good chance they'd eliminate him completely.

That there was a good chance they had done that already.

"Alright," Sam said. "Alright. So, when are we leaving?"

"Oh," Natasha said. "I didn't tell you? Tomorrow morning." She reached into her pocket, pulling out three tickets, and tossing them the table. "Take a train up there, Stark can give us a ride back."

"Okay. How the hell did you even get those?" Sam said, pointing at the tickets, as Steve shook his head. He had learned to stop questioning Natasha a long time ago.

"When you weren't looking."

"But when?"

She smirked, and turned aways. "A magician never reveals her secrets, young padawan."

"First of all, no, that's just _wrong_, Jedis _teach_ their padawans, so you should reveal your damn secrets. Secondly, they aren't even magicians, you can't just mix universes like that," he said. "And I _knew_ watching Star Wars with you was a bad idea."

"Grampa there hadn't seen the original trilogy," she said, gesturing at Steve, who rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. "What were we supposed to do? Let him live in ignorance?"

"Good point," Sam said. "Poor guy. Poor, poor guy."

"I'm right here," Steve said. Sam shot him a grin.

"Yes, you are. Great observational skills, Rogers," Natasha said, with that trademark Romanoff dry humor. "Well, I'm going to bed. There's another room around here somewhere, and the couch is pretty comfortable. At least, I think it is. Clint sleeps on it most of the time. Don't stay up too late. Or else."

Sam shook his head, before glancing at Steve once she was out of earshot. "She's like a scary older sister, or something."

"Don't let her hear you say that," Steve said. "She's a _mean_ older sister too."

"If I was your older sister, you two would be dead," came Natasha's muffled reply. "Now shut up, and go to sleep."

"How? How does she always know?" Sam said.

"She's a spy," Steve said. "I don't question it anymore."

"I know everything," was the ominous reply from behind the wall.

"She's amazing, and terrifying," he said.

"Yeah," Steve said. "She's something else."

"I feel like if we don't go to bed though, she will actually kill us," Sam said, standing up. "Fight you for the bed?"

"Take it," Steve said. "I'll be up for a while."

"Ah, man. No. Didn't expect you not to try and fight for it, though, at this point, I probably should've. I am not putting an elderly man out on the couch."

"_Sam_."

"_Steve_."

"I promise, I'm not sleeping for a while," Steve said, and Sam looked mildly sympathetic, like he wanted to stay awake with him, but also was about to pass out. "Now, go, Wilson."

"Fine, Cap," Sam said. "Just... Don't torture yourself. We're close. We're going to find him."

"I know." He didn't say that that wasn't the only thing that was on his mind.

"We're going to find him," Sam said, knowing something else was wrong. He was Sam Wilson, after all. He was something else too. "Then we'll finish off HYDRA. We're going to save the world "

Steve nodded slowly, not voicing how he wasn't sure that HYDRA could be finished off. Bucky had died trying. _He _had died trying. Peggy and the Howling Commandos had spent the rest of their lives trying. And it was all for nothing. He didn't say how, even if they did find Bucky, it might not be the man he remembered. He might not want to come back with them. He might have been too warped by HYDRA to be considered good. He might have been killed.

He didn't say that. All he did was nod.

"Night, Sam."

"Night, Cap."

Steve got up after a little while, and walked to the window. The shadows fell across his face as he crossed his arms, much like the shadows that were falling in his mind. Down below on the sidewalk, a blind man in a nice suit walked with his cane extended and Steve could hear the faint _tap tap tap_, and on the other side of the street, a young woman with dark hair, wearing dark clothes, leaned against the wall, hands balled into fists at her side, as she stared up at the night sky, at all the stars hidden behind smoke and fog. She looked like she was wrestling with her own mind, like she was about to break at any second. The lights flashed as cars passed, and sirens blared, and Steve still didn't feel at home. He didn't think he ever would. But like it or not, he was stuck here.

This world... It wasn't his, but as he thought about Natasha and Sam, his friends, his teammates, as he thought about the people walking below, he knew that he had to keep fighting for it, even if it seemed like a Sisyphean task. For them. He had to keep fighting.

He was Captain America, and he was going to fight for this world.

**A/N:** First of all, I hope that everyone in Japan, Paris, Baghdad, South Korea, Beirut, and any other parts of the world which have been going through rough times are okay. I'm worried about you, and I wish there was more I could do.

I finally, finally managed to work in a chapter about my precious nerd squad. I tried to work so many headcanons in, both sad and happy and funny, but I don't know if it worked. It's a lot shorter than the last few, but I've been going through a lot of things and stress lately, and it's kind of destroyed my creative spirit (which is sad, because I was finally going to do NaNo, and there's this story, and just ugh. Life of a writer and a senior, I guess). Shout out to Twenty One Pilots for keeping me sane, seriously. I also tried to make it slightly lighter in tone, because why not.


	35. Viciously Unrelenting

**A/N:** _Under the Influence_ by Elle King

Cara flinched as a car honked near her, hand flying to her head. The sunglasses weren't doing much to help block the bright sun. She had already been sick once this morning, her stomach felt like it was inside out, and the smell of the street and exhaust and smoke and other people made the nausea even worse. Every muscle ached, and she could barely remember last night. She had gone down to the bar, and left... and there had been people, and Bucky had been there. When she asked him about it, he had avoided the question. Actually, he had been very quiet all morning.

Bucky glanced down at her as she flinched as someone coughed loudly.

"I know, I know," she mumbled. "I deserve it."

He looked vaguely sympathetic. "I've been there. Not fun."

"Before?"

"Before the War? Yeah, for fun, or when a girl broke up with me, or whenever someone died. Then I was captured, and Zola..." he said. He paused, swallowing heavily, and looked away. "Then I got the serum. And trust me, some of the things we saw, I'd want to drink away. And what happened after..." He fell silent, staring off into the distance.

She didn't know what to say. She wanted to pull him into her arms, to let him know that he wasn't alone, but she didn't think that they were quite back where they were. He had kissed her once, right after she had saved his life, but had shied away from any other contact since then. So she remained silent, and slid her hand into his. He glanced down at their entwined fingers, before jerking his head up, and staring straight ahead, keeping his face even, save for a flicker of something. He didn't pull away. She glanced around, the colors muted by the sunglasses on her face.

"We need new clothes," she said, and nodded in the direction of a store across the store. Hers smelled like smoke, and were covered in blood, and so were his. He glanced at it, and let go of her hand, making his way to it quickly. She tried to follow him, but quickly, lost track of him in the crowd.

"Wait, Bucky!" she said. "Bucky!"

She spun around, trying to find him. Dammit. How could he disappear so quickly? Why did she have to get attached to an assassin?

She spun around, trying to find him. Her heart fluttered slightly. She knew that he could take care of himself, by while they were in the city, she didn't want him to leave her sight. Not while HYDRA was looking for him, and not if the Deathless knew she was with him. She wouldn't put it past that man, or any of his insane followers to hurt Bucky just to prove a point to her.

She could hear his horrible voice now.

_See, my darling beloved, this is what you get for running away. You brought this on yourself. You brought this on him. You shouldn't have gotten attached. _

"Bucky!" she said again. Turning around, she ran straight into him. He caught her. "How did you... Don't do that! Don't run off!"

"I needed to check the exits," he said.

"You didn't need to run off!"

"What?" he said.

"I don't want HYDRA to snatch you when I'm not looking!" she said. She was overreacting. She knew she was. But she was tired, and hungover, and still a little pissed at him.

"They wouldn't be able to do that."

"Wouldn't they? They've almost done it before," she said. "Or what if it wasn't HYDRA, what if it was- what if someone wanted to get back at me?"

"You think that would happen?" he said. "I think it would happen the other way around. They'd hurt you to get to me."

"Bullshit," she said.

"I have more enemies than you."

"It's not a competition! And no one knew who you were!"

"They do now. And they're all pissed."

"You don't even like me anymore," she said."How much would it really hurt if they came here and shot me it the head? Once you leave, there's nothing you could do about that."

He started to say something, but shut his mouth, and spun around. "I thought we were getting new clothes."

She breathed out sharply through her nose. "Yeah. Yeah we are," she said, and they walked in through the front doors. "Don't wander off."

"I wasn't wandering off," he said. "I was _checking_ the _exits_."

She glowered at him as they stepped through the automatic doors. It was a large department store, and people walked around, with arms full of cloths. She saw suitcases in a back corner, and she made a mental note to grab one. Winter wear just in front of them. She didn't know where they were going next, and it would probably be a good idea to get something warmer.

"Do you trust me enough to let me go get my own things?" Bucky said in her ear. He was angry.

"Fine... Just. Don't. Wander. Off," she said. "I don't want to save you from being kidnapped again."

"I _won't-_ You know what? I'm done doing this with you," he said. "There's an exit in back, it'll set off the fire alarm, so be careful if you have to use it. There's also one upstairs. If anything happens, try to get out. We'll meet at the Continental if we get separated. Got it?"

"Meet you by back there in twenty," she said, nodding in the direction of the suitcases. She turned around, but he was already gone. She sighed, and shut her eyes for a moment, before walking around She tried to concentrate on what she would need, tried to get into the head of her cover identity, grabbing things off the shelves, tried to think about how to blend in best, but she could not, for the life of her, concentrate. She groaned, slamming her hand down on a shelf, making herself flinch at the noise, and several people look at her.

"Meet you by back there in twenty," she said, nodding in the direction of the suitcases. She turned around, but he was already gone. She sighed, and shut her eyes for a moment, before walking around She tried to concentrate on what she would need, tried to get into the head of her cover identity, grabbing things off the shelves, tried to think about how to blend in best, but she could not, for the life of her, concentrate. She groaned, slamming her hand down on a shelf, making herself flinch at the noise, and several people look at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, before catching sight of the ring on her finger. She had put in on this morning, and Bucky had done the same. She could feel it crawling like poison beneath her skin. She wasn't sure if this was her hangover, or if it was something else, but she had been hard on Bucky. She screwed her eyes shut, and mumbled, "Damn it," before walking off quickly.

She found Bucky staring at a (very ugly) shirt, like he was pondering the existence of the universe while looking at it. She walked up to him, and pulled it sharply out of his hands. He looked up at her in alarm.

"I-"

"No," she said, holding up her hand. "Let me talk. I've heard what you've had to say... Especially about me. I get it. You're mad because I lied, you're confused, you don't know who I am, and from your standpoint, I'm just wearing the face of someone you used to care about. I'm sorry for that, but I can't change who I am, or what I've done anymore than you can. We're going to be working together, alright? And we need to figure out how to do that."

He blinked at her, and looked at the shirt in her hand. "How do we do that?"

"I can help you shop like a spy."

"What should I get?" he asked after a moment.

"Not that," she said. "It's horrendous."

A small smile pulled at his lips. "Then what?"

She looked around, and picked up a red henley. "This."

"That?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. It'll look good on you."

"Bit bright," he said, holding it in front of him. "Thought we weren't supposed to be noticed."

"That's the thing everyone gets wrong about going undercover," she said. "They think you wear dark clothes and it'll make you invisible, but really, it's how you act and wear you wear them. You go to a beach resort wearing all black, you'll stand out. But you wear this to a nice little tourist spot in New York with your wife, no one'll look at you twice."

"It's still bright."

"We can get you other things too," she said, taking the shirt from him. "Come on."

She walked off, not seeing how Bucky watched her, his smile fading slowly from his face.

* * *

"Come on, Bucky," Cara said. "It doesn't look bad, I promise." She stood outside the changing room doors of the store, waiting for Bucky.

"No, it looks ridiculous," he said, his response muffled. "I look ridiculous."

"I'm sure you look fine."

The door opened with a click, as Bucky walked out, struggling with one of the sleeves of a suit.

"I don't need this," he grumbled. She bit back a smile, stepping forward, and helping him with it. She carefully straightened the jacket, running her hands down the lapels. Her fingers skimmed over his heart, which beat slightly faster. She looked up him. He looked like a deer in headlights. She dropped her hand quickly.

"Say there's a fancy party," she said. "I'm not going alone, and you're not wearing that." She pointed to the red shirt slung over a chair to the side, along side the other clothes they had bought.

"Why would there be a fancy party?"

"It's a great way to get information," she said. "And a great excuse to break into houses."

He nodded, looking vaguely pleased at the thought of breaking into places. "Fine. But if I have to have this, what horrible thing do you have to wear?"

"It's not horrible, it's pretty," she said. "And it's a dress. Would you rather wear one of those?"

"How do you even fight in a dress?" he said irritably, pulling the jacket sleeve down on his metal arm. "It's impractical."

"It's not."

"It is. You'd get all tangled up. Anyways, they look cold."

"See, people underestimate dresses," she said. "And that's when we strike." She poked his chest. He crossed his arms.

"Can I change?" he said. "Is it okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "It looks fine." He stepped back in, looking relieved.

"Cara?" he said after a few minutes, like he was hesitating.

"Yes?"

"I don't hate you," he said. "Not really. Not like I hate the people that did... this to me. You know that, right?"

She breathed out slowly, and imagined him on the other side of the door. He took her silence as a sign to continue.

"I just... I need time," he said.

"Could you forgive me?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly, and she dreaded the answer.

_He's going to say no again,_she thought. _And if he says yes, could you believe him?_

"I... I don't know," came his reply. He came back out holding his hat. He was staring at his hands. "I just don't know."

That's not what she wanted him to say.

There was a moment where the world blurred, and she was nodding.

"Train leaves in an hour," she said, and her voice seemed to take on a life of it's own. "Ready to go?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said. "But HYDRA won't let us just walk in without a fight. We need something more than a gun you stole from your friend. Know of anyone?"

She shot him a smile. "Oh, you'd be surprised."

* * *

They had to walk to the train station, having switch taxis several times, where they would catch the one that would get them out of the city. Her arms ached. Both of them were carrying two suitcases, and while Bucky wasn't having any problems (stupid serum, stupid metal arm), she was struggling. The cases were heavier than they looked. Hidden beneath the clothes were several weapons, taken with some bribery and threats and calling in of favors from a contact of hers.

_(They were in a dark room, blinds pulled down and dusty. An armed guard stood off to the side, and there were another three outside. The man in front of her wore a bowler hat over his smug round face. His accent was British, although occasionally he would put on a different one just to mess with her._

"_Look," she said, bracing her hands on the table. Bucky leaned against the wall behind her, looking perfectly relaxed, arms crossed. "I know for a fact you've been peddling out stolen SHIELD tech. And now, you know I know. So, if you don't want me to tell all my old friends you've been stealing and selling their stuff, you'd best give me a good deal on it."_

"_You wouldn't do that," Stoat said, putting his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair._

"_Yeah? Try me."_

"_You know," he said. "I hear people are paying a pretty price for you. What if_I _were_ _call your 'old friends'?"_

_Bucky took a step forward, arms falling to his sides, and she held up her hand, telling him to wait. "You do that, they'll just take me, probably shoot up your place and guards, and you'll be left with no business from either of us. They wouldn't give you anything. I'm offering you a decent price for things you stole from my old employers."_

"_Darling, that just isn't going to cut it."_

_She took out her phone. "Look at this. What does it say? Tony Stark? All I have to do is call, and he'll send one of his security teams down to help me. Do we really want to get a billionaire and his team of lawyers involved in this? Why, you were planning on selling me. That's human trafficking, isn't it?" She looked back at Bucky, who gave a nod. "Add that all the numerous other charges we have here. How many years do you think you'll spend in prison? I'd estimate... At least a decade or two, minimum."_

"_You're bluffing," he said, sitting up._

_She raised her eyebrow, smirking slightly, thumb hovering over the screen. "Am I?")_

Bucky glanced at her as they approached the station. "How'd you know him?"

"Stoat? Did business with him a few times. He usually knows something."

"And now he knows about us."

"He knows that I'm with a scary looking man, that we're in New York, and that I needed weapons. That's all HYDRA and the Deathless know about us."

"They're not the only ones looking," Bucky said darkly. "And am I really scary?"

"Sort of," she said. "More like intimidating."

He nodded. "Good," he said thoughtfully, before looking like he wanted to ask another question. "What about Stark? You know him?"

"Tony? Yeah, I met him in passing a few times," she said.

"Is he... Is he okay?"

She shrugged. "The Battle messed us all up in different ways. Tony nearly died saving everyone, and it's taken a while to overcome that. He's very annoying, but he's a good person, an Avenger," she said. "I'd trust him. He does what he thinks is right."

"And... Steve. You know him?"

She nodded. "Yes. Knew him better than some of the Avengers. I mean, he was working for us a lot more. He's a good man too. Nothing like the history books will have you believe. Very sarcastic."

"I remember," Bucky said, with the ghost of a smile. "He's a punk."

"He is," Cara said, laughing slightly as they came to the entrance of the train station. She turned to look at him. He was staring at the entrance with wide determined eyes.

"Well," she said. "You ready to make them pay?"

He looked down at her. "Yeah. I'm more than ready."

A/N: So... the Civil War trailer am i right

i dedicate this chapter to Bucky's red henley and those three seconds of each of my superpowered children and the fact that if Rhodey dies, I swear i'

You can totally see me trying to process all this at the end of this chapter i cannot i just no

Don't even get me start on Jessica Jones (it's so good i'm crying)

(And Stoat's totally a mix of Badger from Firefly and Crowley from Supernatural, we'll be seeing more of him)

Well... Marvel has killed me this week. I'll see you all soon. Just. wow.


	36. Fabricated Disbelief

Cara walked up the steps of the train, struggling with the heavy luggage. She finally made it all the way in, pushing the suitcase into one of the compartments by the entrance. They didn't check their bags in, as the train line did not allow firearms, ammunition, or gun powder, and they were guilty of carrying more than a few of those. She turned around, about to say something to Bucky, but he was nowhere to be found. Her heart fluttered slightly, but she reminded herself that panicking was what had caused their last argument.

"Bucky?" she called out. She took a few steps forward to see him glaring at the metal, ridged stairs, not making any move to walk up them. She quickly made her way towards him. "Hey. Hey, you okay?"

He looked up at her sharply.

"I'm okay," he said. "Just... Last time I was on a train, it didn't go down so well."

It a minute to process what he meant, and when it did, she couldn't believe what a stupid mistake she had made.

_Idiot_, she thought, and bit her lip, shaking her head. "I didn't think about that. Shit."

"It's okay," he said. "I'm okay."

"No," she said. "It's not. I was so desperate to leave I didn't- I didn't think. I'm sorry." _I didn't think about you. I'm an selfish, stupid idiot. _

"Cara," he said._"It's okay."_

She stepped down, looking up at his blue eyes, and reached forward, taking the suitcase from his grasp.

"I'm really am sorry, Bucky," she said. "I'll be right here the entire time." She turned back around, and once again tried to climb up stairs with a bulky case filled with clothes and assault rifles, as well as leading him up the stairs.

_I'm an idiot. I'm so stupid._

When she finally made it to the top, she pushed it in with hers, all the way in the back, and turned to him. He looked slightly pale, but otherwise okay.

"Let's find our seats," she said. He nodded, and followed along close behind her. After two cars or so of walking, the train gave a lurching jolt without warning, and began to move. Bucky lashed out, and caught her arm, steadying her as she almost toppled forward. His grip was very tight, bordering on painful. She turned around, and saw that he was staring at some distant place on the wall. He didn't even seem to be aware that he was holding her.

"James Barnes," he said. "107th."

"Bucky," she said, reaching out to touch the hand as it began to tighten on her arm, attempting to pry off his fingers. "Bucky, it's okay. It's not like last time. You're safe."

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 3255-"

"Bucky," Cara said, as her attempts to loosen his grip proved futile.

"-7038, 107th Infantry-"

"Bucky, look at me!" she said, reaching up to touch his cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone. His gaze fell to her sharply. "It's okay. You're safe, you're safe."

He just kept staring at her blankly. She glanced behind him, and saw that several people were staring at them.

"Hey," she said. "You remember who you are?"

He nodded slowly, eyes still empty. "Bucky. Bucky Barnes."

"You remember who I am?"

"Cara."

"Where are we?"

"June. 2014."

"Where are we?"

"Train. New York."

"Yes. Listen to me. You're safe, you're okay."

He shook his head. "Safety is an illusion, Cara. No one is ever really safe. Especially not people like us."

She pushed the hair back from face. "I know, darling. But that's why we pretend."

He stared at her, searching her face for something, before his gaze drifted down to the hand latched onto her arm. His eyes widened, and he released her quickly, shaking his head.

"I did it again," he said. "I hurt you again."

"You didn't-" Cara began, but he took a few stumbling steps back.

"You need to stop me," he said, "Cara, you _have_ to stop me."

"I did," she said. "You calmed down. You didn't hurt me. You didn't." He was still shaking his head, and pushed her away, heading to the end of the train.

"Wait, Bucky," she said, trying to follow him.

"I need some air," he said. "Please. Don't follow me."

She stopped, and watched him leave the car helplessly.

"Your husband," a voice said next to her. She looked down to see an old man, wearing a hat that read WWII Veteran. "He a soldier?"

She nodded, staring at the place he disappeared from.

"Just get back?"

"Yeah," she said. "You could say that."

"Thought so," he said, tapping his hat. "I know that look. It isn't your fault, kid. War is a heavy thing to carry. You never really leave it behind. And it never really leaves you. Some part of you will always be trapped there. It isn't your fault, kid."

"No," she said. "This was my fault. I messed up. He got hurt a train while fighting, more than hurt, captured and taken prisoner for the longest time, and then I go out and get us _train tickets_. Stupid."

"Listen. Don't hold it against you. You're human. You're gonna slip up."

"I don't think that's an option. Not with him."

The man gave her a sympathetic look. "What's your name?"

"Cara," she said.

"It'll be okay, Cara," he said. "He's not angry with you."

"I am though," she said. "I'm angry at myself. How could I do that to him?"

The old man stood up, and walked stiffly passed her, patting her shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself, kid. Now, I have to go see if this train has anything real to drink on it. Go make sure he's okay."

She was frozen there for a moment, about to go find Bucky.

"_Cara?_" Another voice said. One she recognized. She spun around to see Natasha Romanoff walking towards her, closely followed by Steve Rogers and a handsome black man she didn't know.

_Shit_, she thought. _Of all the trains. Of all the days. Of all the people. _

"Nat?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know. Just traveling," she said. "What about you?"

"Keeping my head down," she said. "Or I was trying to, until you and America's sweetheart showed up." She glanced around, making sure there no other surprises, that Clint Barton would drop from the rafters, or Sharon Carter from the seat next to her, or Tony Stark from who knows.

"We weren't followed."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," Natasha said, looking back Steve and the other man. "Steve, you remember Cara?"

"We met a few times," he said, nodding at her. "Glad to see you made it out."

"You too, Steve," she said. She realized then that all three of them looked exhausted, and beat up, although in her current condition she couldn't really judge.

"Sam, this is Cara," Nat was saying, gesturing to the man behind her. "She worked for SHIELD. She was one of the good ones. Cara, this is Sam Wilson. He helped us take down SHIELD."

"Hey," he said, giving her a smile. "Sorry about, you know, basically destroying your job."

"Honestly, I'm thankful," she said, returning the grin. "Didn't pay enough. Made me work weekends. Got shot at a lot. This is a little calmer."

Sam laughed. "Well, that's what superheroes do. Glad we could help."

"So," Cara said. "What are you doing here?"

Steve glanced at Natasha, obviously checking to make sure she was trustworthy. Nat gave a barely perceptible nod.

"There's a base up here," he said. "We think that it might be holding Bucky."

Cara felt like her heart stopped, but hoped it didn't show up on her face. That thought was smashed when Natasha clearly caught it, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, glancing at Cara's finger, where the wedding ring sat.

Neither Sam or Steve picked up on any of it, luckily.

"Bucky? As in... As in James Barnes? Natasha told me about him, last time we talked," Cara said. "I'm sorry, Steve. This must be hell for you."

"It's okay," he said. "I have a chance to get my friend back, and that's all I really care about."

Cara nodded, before glancing down her phone. "Oh, no. I'm meeting someone here, and the meeting's in like three minutes. Hopefully, I'll catch you later."

And then she ran off, to warn Bucky about something he might not need a warning for.

* * *

Bucky stood at the end of the train, hands enclosed around the bars, almost like holding on for dear life. As the wind rustled around him, he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. Trains were not good. The moment it started moving, he was back in 1945, back in the snow, as a train rattled through wintry mountains. He had been right there, he could feel his breath freeze in his lungs, could feel his both his hands for the last time as they clung to the frozen bar, the iron cutting at his skin. He had felt it give way as he fell down, down, down. The wind had hurt then, as it mixed with his own screams that were torn from his mouth as he watch his life slip from his outstretched hand.

He had luckily snapped out of it before he hit the ground. Because the fall wasn't the worst part. It was disorienting, it was terrifying, yes.

But the truly horrifying part was what came after. That's when the pain began.

He had snapped out of it when he heard Cara's voice, telling him he was okay, when he realized that he had almost hurt her. He had almost hurt Cara (or maybe he actually had... He wasn't sure if she had been lying or not. He never could tell if she was lying).

"James!" Cara said from behind him.

He turned around to see Cara running up to him, looking borderline frantic.

"Cara?" he said, stepping forward, glancing behind her to make sure she wasn't being chased. She reached him, almost falling into his arms, holding onto him. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Bucky," she said. "Steve's here. So's Natasha."

He could feel himself pale, the blood draining from his face. "What?"

"They don't know you're here, but they're looking for you."

He took a step back. "I-I..."

"Bucky, it's okay. They don't know you're here, and if you don't want them to, they never will. Are you ready to face him?"

He was shaking his head. The last time he had seen Steve Rogers, he had almost killed him. There were still memories he was missing, and honestly, he wasn't sure if he wouldn't have a breakdown and try to fight him. If he saw the same people he had fought them, he'd have to face what he had done, all of it. He looked up at Cara's face, and he knew that whatever he did, she would be by his side.

"No," he said. "No, I'm not ready."

"Alright," she said, nodding. "I won't let them find you."

She grabbed his hand, pulling him down the narrow hall. She stopped, opening up a narrow door, and pushed him in. It was a tiny store room, barely big enough for him and Cara. Despite that, she pressed in close, shutting the door behind them. His back hit the wall, palms pressed flat against it. She looked up at him, and they were close, closer than they had been since she had told him who she was. He could feel her breath on his neck, and the faint warmth of her skin. A song played through the speakers above them, the voice and instruments dull and distorted, and some part of his brain that wasn't very distracted picked them up.

"_Blanket of silence_

_Makes me want to sink my teeth in deep_

_**Burn all the evidence**_

_**Of fabricated disbelief.**__"_

"How long do we have to stay here?" he murmured.

"I don't know," she said, just as quietly.

"_Pull back the curtains_

_Took a look__**into your eyes**_

_My tongue has now become_

_**A platform for your lies.**__"_

The train gave a sudden rock, and Bucky's hand lashed out, holding onto the wall. The other went around her waist as she fell into him. They were closer than before. She looked back up him, and her lips parted slightly.

"Wait," she said suddenly, as realization dawned in her eyes. "Did I try to kiss you last night?"

"You don't remember?" he said, blinking in surprise. Did she remember what she said? Did she remember that she told him that she loved him?

"No."

"You did."

She looked away from him. "Shit. Sorry."

"You were drunk, it didn't mean anything."

"I don't want to put you in a position like that," she said. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Like what?"

"You... You said you didn't know me. To you, I'm a stranger. I will not put you in a position like that. After everything, I will not do that to you."

"_I'm__**stuck here in between**_

_The__**shadows of my yesterday**_

_I want to__**get away**_

_**I need to get away."**_

He watched her. The light was dull in here, casting shadows over her face. She stared at her hand on his chest. For the first time since she had punched the mirror, she looked absolutely miserable. No, this was the first time he was catching her looking absolutely miserable. Something tugged in his heart, while the voice in his head said not to care, that she had hurt him. It didn't matter.

"The reason nothing happened last night was that you were drunk, and I'm not going to take advantage of someone like that," he said, and the words felt heavy on his tongue. She glanced up at him, and all that sadness was hidden behind a mask of emptiness. "It wasn't because I don't know who you are. Sometimes, I can see her. Who you pretended to be, I mean. But you're not pretending now, you have no reason to, and that's... That shouldn't be right. You're not like them, not like me. I can't forgive you. I don't think I can forgive anyone who was a part of that, or who lied to me. But there's a part of you, a part of Cara Fox in your head. You're her, just like you said. You're the last part of her I have left."

She gaze him a look with an expression he couldn't decipher. "You're a good person, Bucky Barnes."

_You're so wrong about that, Cara Fox. But neither are you. The only difference is, you have a chance. You're not so far gone. You can get better. You are getting better._

"_**The altar's callin'**_

_But my legs won't seem to stand_

_Guess__**I'm a coward**_

_**Scared to face the man I am.**__"_

Before he knew it, he was kissing her. She was clearly surprised, but recovered quickly. Her fingers trailed lightly up chest, his neck, over his jaw, sliding into his hair. She pressed him back harder the wall, teeth and tongue grazing over his lip. He gave a faint hum, hands falling down to her hips, pulling her closer, as close as she could be.

She pulled away just enough so that she could murmur against his lips. "You are a good person, Bucky Barnes. You are a good man, a good person."

"You're wrong, Cara-"

She shut him up with another kiss. His heart was beating in time to the song, it felt like a drum and this didn't feel real.

"_Now, you know, yeah you got__**my back against the wall,**_

_Oh God,__**I ain't got no other place to hide,**_

_**Chained down,**__like a sitting duck__**just waiting for the fall,**_

_You know, yeah__you got my back against the wall."_

He wondered if this was bad. He knew that things between them weren't fixed, and he knew in the long run, this would probably make it worse, but had started it, and he wasn't going to stop now, any consequences were on him.

The door swung open sharply, and light flooded in. His head snapped up, as Cara spun around. A woman stood there, arms crossed, the light behind her making it hard to see her face. Bucky's hand began to move subtly to the gun under his jacket.

"I should have known it was you," the woman said.

"Natasha," Cara said. "Natasha, wait-"

The woman stepped in, and her face become clear. Bucky recognized her as the woman from the bridge. Something else pulled at the back of his mind, but he pushed it down, unwilling to have any memories surface on this damn train.

"Do you have any idea about what Steve's been going through? About where Sam and him have gone, what they've had to do, what _we've_ had to do?" she was saying.

"Natasha, please, let me explain-"

"And here you are, making out with him right under their noses. That is low, even for you, Cara Fletcher. That is _low_."

"It's not like that," Cara said.

"Yeah. What's it like then?" Natasha said.

"Do they know he's here?" Cara said, and he could hear a quiet desperation in her voice. Her hands blindly sought out his, and it felt like she was guarding him from the world.

"Not yet, but they might," she said. "Depending on how well you sell your case."

Cara turned around, and looked up at Bucky. She was panicking a little. "Bucky, stay here. I'll take care of this. It'll be okay. I promise. I'll fix this."

He was silent, but squeezed her hands, and nodded. She nodded back, and leaned up, lightly kissing his cheek, before she turned, and walked out, and left leaving him alone in the dark.

**A/N:** Well there's some drama. Drama everywhere. It's the drama train. yay.

The song is Back Against the Wall by Cage the Elephant, which I have been dying to use, and worked wonders for the chapter. I did a songfic thing, and only highlighted a few phases for attention. I really hope that not annoying, but at least I didn't put the whole song in.

If you don't know, it's my annual "cry during December finals time", so updates may be slightly later. Also I may die haha lol i'm dead on the inside. pray for my poor mortal senior soul, so that i can escape this four year hell.


	37. Train Of Thought

Cara felt like she was on trial as she stood in of Natasha's piercing gaze. She looked at the floor, taking in the dull, dirty and stained tiles. The other woman was silent, and the silence was becoming almost unbearable. She looked up, and Natasha crossed her arms.

"Well?" Cara said. "Say something."

"How long?" Natasha said.

"How long what?" she replied.

"Don't do that with me. How long have you been with him?"

"A month or two. It was a few weeks after SHIELD went down."

"And how long has that been going on?" she said, gesturing to the room.

Cara crossed her arms. "Not long."

"Mmm," Natasha said, not looking like she believed her. She chose to ignore that.

"Steve can't know he's here," Cara said. "Please. Bucky isn't ready. He told me he isn't, and I promised him I would keep him safe."

"Steve thinks he was taken by HYDRA again," she said. "I did too. Now we're going to raid a base. We all almost died last time we tried that."

"Nat," she said. "I'll help you, we'll help you. That's what we're going to do anyways. But you can't let them know he's there. Let this just be another mission where one party doesn't know everything. Please, I'm begging you."

"Steve is driving himself insane over this. You know, he thinks it's his fault? All of it?"

Cara winced. "Look. After we take this base down, we can let Steve know he's okay. But then Bucky and me are going away, alright? He's been through so much-"

"We all have," Natasha said darkly.

"I know. I know that. But this is someone I can help. Did you know that he wakes up screaming almost every night? He hasn't gotten to the point where he can forget yet, where he can hide it. And sometimes he gets these flashbacks, and he just... repeats his name, over and over again. The machine the they used to wipe his mind nearly destroyed it, and the arm they gave him nearly killed him. _He_ thinks it's all _his_ fault, and I don't know if I can ever change his mind. Please. I can't see him get hurt because of this. Please. I just can't see him get hurt again."

Natasha stared at her, and something seemed to click in her head.

"How did you manage to get yourself into this, любимый?" Natasha said, shaking her head. Cara flinched the name. _Beloved._

"Don't call me that. That's not who I am. I will never be that again. And I was trying to help him, I was just trying to help Bucky. I tried to keep him safe. He's my friend."

"Looks like you two were a bit more than friends," Natasha quipped. Cara felt her cheeks burn.

"It's not like that," she said. "It's... I don't know. Just not like what you think. It's nothing."

Natasha raised her eyebrow. "Really?" she said, the corner of her mouth twitching. Cara recognized that look. She was teasing her. "Maybe I should choose a different profession, because obviously I can't read people. Apparently, kissing in a closet means nothing."

Cara shook her head. "You're still a jerk, you know that?" she said, but even she couldn't hide her smile.

"Look, Cara," Natasha said. "I know you want what's best for Bucky, and so do I, but I have other people to think about. Sometimes it's the needs of the many against the needs of the few. I'll keep those two off your scent, for now. But you have to keep up your side of the bargain. You _have_ to let Steve know that Bucky's alive and well."

"So... You'll help us?"

"Yes," she said.

"Thank you, Natasha," she murmured. "I won't forget this."

"You better not," Natasha said, before glancing down at the ring on Cara's finger, as she walked away. "Go make sure your husband is alive in there. If you stay in the last car of the train, Sam and Steve won't find you. I'll do what I can after that."

"We're not really married."

Natasha gave her a smirk. "I know that."

"I would have told you if I was."

"Good," Natasha said, as she turned her attention to the bruise on Cara's cheek, making a small noise of disapproval. "How did you get hit in the face? Are you worrying about your kicks too much? Are you not blocking? I taught you better than that."

"Out of practice, I guess," she said, as her hand flew up to it, her fingers hovering over her skin. "Anyways. Didn't really stand a chance. It was a supersoldier, and I'm just me."

"Him?" Natasha said, nodding at the closet. Cara shook her head.

"No, HYDRA agent working for the Deathless," she said. Natasha's face hardened a fraction.

"They're looking for you?" Natasha said.

"Of course they are. It's them. That's why we're running," Cara said. She paused. "I don't like that they're working together."

"Cara, the Deathless, and HYDRA, they've been working together for years," Natasha said. "Since you were a child and before that. I've been reading up on them. I knew you wouldn't want to, but someone has to know something."

Cara stomach dropped a little. "Of course. Of course HYDRA had to help them," she said, letting out a shaky, frantic laugh.

"Cara," Natasha said gently. "It's alright. It was just funding and protection in exchange for scientific advancement."

"So. If there's ever been anything even just a little bit evil, HYDRA's been there?"

"Pretty much," Natasha said grimly. She paused, looking slightly unsure, eyes darting to the door again. "How much does he remember?"

"Bits and pieces," Cara said. "Sometimes there will be a flashback, and sometimes he recognize a name, and more's coming back to him, but... I don't know if he'll ever get it all back."

Natasha nodded, and looked like she wanted to ask something else before she cut herself off. "Okay."

"He has nightmares," Cara said quietly. "They're pretty bad."

For the briefest of moments, Natasha suddenly looked incredibly sad. "You can't live in our world and not have nightmares. You can't live like us, and be unscathed."

"I know that, Tasha."

Natasha hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Cara?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you made it out. Too many people didn't. Good people."

"I know," she said quietly. "But good people? They're never the ones to make it."

* * *

Bucky waited for Cara to come back in, hands clenched at his sides. If Cara couldn't convince the woman to not tell Steve, he was prepared to fight his way out. He couldn't face them yet.

Not yet.

He could hear her hushed voice faintly, clearing arguing with the other woman. Natalia. Natasha. If there was enough room to pace in here, he would. he didn't know how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? The door swung open sharply. He braced himself. It was Cara. She was smiling.

"She won't tell them," she said. "If we go to the last car, she'll keep them away from us."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"I trust her," she said.

"Why?"

"She's saved my life, Bucky. She's a good person," she said. She tilted her head back. "Come on."

He didn't move.

"Bucky Barnes, you are not staying in there this entire ride."

"Who's gonna stop me?" he mumbled under his breath, but he stepped out, following Cara to the last car. His eyes darted around, looking for any sign of... Anyone. There were too many people after him, he could hardly keep track of it all.

"Sit on the inside, by the window," she murmured in his ear. "Keep looking down, at me. Smile like I said something sweet. Keep your body angled towards me."

He did, smiling a small smile that made it look like he adored her as he sat. She moved with him, leaning against him, his metal arm draped over her shoulder.

"Keep one arm over my shoulder, try to block my face. Then lean forward and we'll talk. We just got married. We're in love. Sell it."

"Why are you in charge?" he said. "I'm older, and more experienced." He put his arm over her shoulder, stiffly.

"I was a spy, and this was my specialty," she said, staring into his eyes, acting like she had said something profound. "You were frozen for half a century. I know what I'm doing."

"But I'm older."

"You're being a child."

"I'm not child. As you pointed out, I'm almost a hundred."

Her mouth quirked up in a quick smile, that she quickly hid, pretending to be annoyed.

"Shut up, Barnes," she said, laying her head on his shoulder, and closing her eyes. "You should get some rest."

"I can't, not here," he said. Not on a train full of strangers. Not on a train with old friends.

She didn't answer, shifting closer to him, and almost subconsciously, he held her tighter. He studied her, taking in the discolored skin on her cheek, split lip, black eye. He could feel her breath on his skin, her heart beating next to him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered holding others like this. He remembered holding her like this, when there had been no doubt in his mind that he loved her.

He didn't know if he still did. The feeling admittedly still lingered in his chest, but along with it was a seed of doubt, of fear, of betrayal, and bitterness. She felt the same, and she looked the same, and he saw through the mask she put on sometimes, catching glimpses of the Cara that he had known. He didn't know what it meant. He knew who she was. There was no need to pretend anymore.

So who was he seeing?

He glanced out the window at the trees rushing by. His fingers tapped idly on the armrest. He had taken a train somewhere before the war, but couldn't remember where, or why, or when, exactly. His mother had been with him, and two of his younger sisters (he couldn't remember which ones, or their faces, or how old they had been). He had been drawing a picture of Buck Rogers, the comic hero that both he and Steve idolized. They had fought to be him when they were playing pretend.

(_"His name is Buck, Steve. That's me. Buck, Bucky."_

_"His last name is Rogers, and that me. Last names are more important. Besides, your real name isn't even Bucky."_

_"Neither is his! His name is Anthony, and that's worse than James. He's Buck, so I get to be him!"_

_"Ma! Bucky's being a jerk!"_

_"Mrs. Rogers! Your son is wrong!"_)

As he stared at the drawing through the scope of his memories, the man, an ex-soldier, being frozen in the past until he lived in future. A man out of time.

_Looks like we both got to be Buck Rogers, Stevie, _Bucky thought, somewhat bitterly.

He remembered that later, there were other comic heroes, but by then, he had stopped spending money on them. He had had to help feed his family first. He knew their names. The Clock, the Phantom, Wonder Man. There were real life superheroes too, or rumors of them made into stories by companies for a cash grab. People like Doctor Occult, the Sandman, Namor, the Human Torch, Zatara, and his own friend, Captain America himself. A few issues of the Captain America comics had been sent to the Commandos, and Steve had laughed his ass off when he saw that Bucky was a snot-nosed kid, a sidekick. Who died. (Of course his character had to die in a explosion. _Of course he did._)

When he had still been in DC, before going the Smithsonian, wandering around in stolen clothes, one of the first things he saw was a comic stand, filled with brightly colored pages and art, some new, some old, some larger and bound, some single volumes. There was a sheriff surrounded by corpses, bizarre art depicting fairy tale characters in New York, a large green man tearing through a building, an older looking comic showing a man that looked like an ant, a woman with an ankh necklace (Bucky felt like he knew her). The one he had been drawn to was the one with Captain America. He had flipped through it, and he knew he had read it before, sitting around a snowy campfire, in the middle of a forest somewhere in Europe, drinking bitter ration coffee. He had seen the picture of the young Bucky dying, and had thrown it to the ground like it had burned him. He hadn't even known why then.

The shop owner, who was reading one of his books looked up. (The panels showed a man in a bat suit cradling a bloody, dead child, checking his pulse, finding it silent... "A death in the family," it read.)

"Dude! That one was a new print of a classic! You gonna pay for it?"

Bucky had stormed off, and when the man tried to stop him by grabbing his jacket, he had broke his arm.

Cara shifted against him, making him lose his train of thought. Her red hair fell in her face. Without meaning to, he brushed it away, fingers lingering on her skin. Her breath caught, and she looked up at him, blinking those wide green eyes. He glanced down sharply.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No," she said quickly. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

He looked away. "Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep," she said. "I can't sleep. Not here."

_Not on a train of full of strangers, full of old friends._

Her unspoken words were the same as his.

"You okay?" she said.

"Ever read comic books?"

"No."

"You should. The old ones."

"I know the inspirations. They're just fairy tales, myths based on speculation and wisps of reality. What's the point?"

"The point? I don't know. It's fun, I guess. At least, it was."

He turned back to the window.

"How much longer?" he said quietly, stretching out his hand on the armrest to his side.

"We'll be there soon."

He nodded slowly, ignoring the anxiety gnawing away in his stomach.

The tapping of his fingers started up again.

-... ..- -.-. -.- -.- / -... .- .-. -. . ... / .. / .- - / .- .- - . ... / -... ..- -.-. ... .- -. .- -. / -... .- .-. -. . ... / .- .- - . ... / -... ..- -.-. ... .- -. .- -. / -... .- .-. -. . ... / .- ... - / .. ... / .- .- - . ... / -... ..- -.-. ... .- -. .- -. / -... .- .-. -. . ... ..-..

_I am James Buchanan Barnes_

_James Buchanan Barnes_

_Who is James Buchanan Barnes?_

**A/N: **I have so much to say on this chapter. So much. The author's note is almost longer than the chapter.

I'm so, so, so sorry.

WinterWidow happened, although I'm trying to stick to MCU canon, and in the MCU, Natasha is with Bruce (I am not going to share my opinions on that here because I have many), so I don't think we'll be seeing any of it in the present. Cara and Natasha are pretty close here, and I see them bonding over some of the shit that's happened to them.

I totally headcanon that in the MCU/DCEU/DCTVU that all these superhero types attract a lot of attention, and so the writers in that world do what any writers do, and make stories out of them (happens in this universe too. see any show with a basis in crime for many examples). But like all writers, they took poetic license with some facts, and some things the general pubic just doesn't know, so you end up with Bucky Barnes being fifteen years old (he still dies though because comic writers are sadistic sociopaths who kill off children, and I'm allowed to say that because I want to be a comic writer, and also that's a rant for another day).

Buck Rogers. Buck Rogers is a pop culture icon and one of the precursors to the superhero genre. He was a WWI vet who got accidentally fell asleep in science stuff and didn't age for a few hundred years, waking up in the future. He was first published in the newspaper in 1929. If you're telling me that 12 year old Steve and Bucky did not fight over who was really Buck Rogers, we have very different versions of the boys living in our heads. I haven't read any Buck Rogers comics, but my dad did make me watch the first the episodes of the show from the 70's. That was an certainly an... experience.

I'd like to say, I'm not the first one to mash up DC and Marvel together. There's been JLA/Avengers, a Death of the Endless cameo at Hulk's wedding, and Hellstrom knows Constantine (so maybe it just means that the Vertigo universe bleeds everywhere but idk).

The Jason Todd reference. Oooh boy where do I begin. If you're not much of a DC fan, Jason Todd was the second Robin. DC had this idea to have readers decide his fate through a phone line and then they killed him off at the hands of the Joker, traumatizing both me and Batman forever (because, much like comic writers, comic readers are sadistic sociopaths, and I can say this because I am one). There used to be this old joke that was like "No comic character stays dead except for Uncle Ben, Bucky Barnes, and Jason Todd." (2005 was a big year in bringing back the dead). Batman and Captain America are like, I don' t know, equivalents on either side of the DC and Marvel spectrum, they're the ones that fight, and solve mysteries together (while saying that, I can argue for the same Superman/Cap as well, but that's getting off topic). Bucky was a sidekick (he isn't now, and he'll fight anyone who says so) and so was Jason (haven't read much Red Hood but i'm assuming that he too will fight because he is Jason). So yeah, lots of similarities between Jason and Bucky. Basically I'm batfam trash, and it's there to cause pain to my fellow batfam trash.

The other names here are early comic characters who I imagine were out fighting crime and having comics written about them, although note: the Human Torch is not Johnny Storm but Jim Hammond, and the Sandman is not Morpheus, but Wesley Dodds.

I'd like to imagine that while Bucky was "dying" in the canyon, he met Death of the Endless, and that's how he knew her on the comic cover. She seems like the kind of person (concept... thing) you'd want with you in a situation like that.

Right, okay, I just wrote an entire essay about like three paragraphs. I'm so sorry. Nerd out. If you actually read through this, congrats. As a reward, you get to, I don't know. Get something. An excerpt from next time, a question with an honest answer. Something.


	38. Blindness

**A/N:** Love Is Blindness by Jack White

_[July 7th, 2011]_

_It was a strange feeling, Cara thought, as she stood out in the middle of nowhere. It was their drop point for some valuable and ancient Norse artifacts that had been wreaking havoc in some small towns. SHIELD would be here soon, and then she would have a few days off at least. She was feeling... happy; almost delirious with a strange, twisted delight. The man next to her was the main reason for that. She wondered if this was what it was like for everyone._

_She couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy because of another person. It might have been never._

"_Hey," the man next to her said, reaching down to take her hand. She looked at him, and the look on his face made her smile. He brought her fingers up to his lips. "You okay?"_

"_I'm fine," she said. "I was just thinking."_

"_About the mission?"_

"_About us."_

"_What's there to think about?"_

_She shrugged. "I don't know. Guess that's why I was thinking."_

"_Listen," he said. "Once we get back, it'll all make sense."_

"_Oh?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "And how do you know that?"_

_He shook his head slightly, with a small smirk, and kissed her temple. Her heart fluttered._

"_You'll see," he said. "You'll see soon."_

* * *

[June 2014]

Bucky felt like the past was repeating itself in some twisted manner. Here he was, on a train with Captain America, going off to fight HYDRA. It felt like a bad joke. Cara looked up at Bucky as the train inched closer to their destination.

"Ready?" she said. They stood near the door, their suitcases in hand, ready to run.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he muttered. She didn't say anything else, but slid her cold hand into his. It was bright outside, the midday sun beating down on the ground. The station was surrounded by practically a forest, a small road leading up to the town. It was obviously a tourist location, going by the many families and couples, smiling and looking happy, all still sitting in their seats. Him and Cara were the only ones near the door, save for a small girl, no older than four or five, completely alone. She stared up at Bucky curiously, in the wide eyed way only little kids could.

"You're from the museum," she said confidently.

"I don't think so, darling," Cara said, a little apologetically.

"No. Bucky James Buck Ann En Barnes. You know Captain America?"

Cara glanced at Bucky sharply, who gave her hand a small squeeze, and knelt down to talk to the kid.

"Bucky," she said, a quiet warning in her voice.

"I'll take care of this," he said. "Yeah. I know him."

"Tell him good job for beating the bad guys," she said. "My name's Cassie."

"Nice to meet you, Cassie," he said. "You like Captain America?"

"Yes, I watch his cartoon," she said, taking a deep breath, and beginning to sing. "_When Captain America throws his mighty shield._"

He gave a low laugh. "_All those who chose to oppose his shield must yield,_" he sang, and she giggled. Cara's expression could only be described as shock. "What? You had work. What else was I going to watch? That show with the creepy puppets?"

"You are _so_ never living this down."

He ignored her. "Now, Cassie, can you try and do something for us? You know, like a real superhero?"

"Like Captain America? Or Iron Man? Or the Mighty Thor?" she said.

"Like them. We're on a secret mission, for the Captain," he said. "You can't tell anyone you saw us, or the bad guys might catch us, and stop the mission."

She nodded solemnly. "Alright," she said. "I won't say anything to anybody."

"Thanks, kid," Bucky said. "Where's your parents, anyways?"

"Mommy's somewhere on the train, and daddy's in prison for stealing a lot of money," she said matter of factly. Bucky glanced at Cara, and saw that she was also at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, because he's not a bad guy," she said. "Why are you wearing a glove on your hand, but only one? It's hot outside."

"I hurt my arm," he said. "I cover it to hide that. Is your ma looking for you?"

"Oh," she said. "Maybe she is."

"She's probably worried."

"Maybe," she said. "How does a glove hide an arm?"

He sighed, and gave Cara another look. She shook her head slightly. He let go of her hand, and slipped his glove off.

"Bucky," Cara said.

"It's fine," he said, opening and closing his hand. Cassie gasped. "The bad guys know about this. If they see it, they'll try and catch me."

"Oh," Cassie said. "It's metal, like Luke Skywalker in Star Wars."

He looked at Cara, who shrugged, mouthing _ I have no idea._

"Yeah... I guess."

She grinned, and looked up at him in amazement. "Cool! I won't ever say anything. Then the bad guys will never find you!"

"You know what, Cassie?" he said. "You're more of a superhero than any of us."

"Really?" she said.

"Yeah."

She began to laugh. "You are too, Bucky James Buck Ann En Barnes!"

He didn't correct her. What harm could come from a little kid think there were more superheroes out there? She didn't need to know about... About people like him.

"Cassie?" a woman said. Bucky stood up, slipping his metal hand into his pocket. "Cassie, baby, where were you?"

"Mommy!" Cassie said. "I'm a superhero. What should my name be?"

"Cassandra Lang, you should not have run off," her mother said. "That was very, very bad."

"Mommy, these are my friends," she said, pointing at Bucky and Cara. "I'm a superhero like Iron Man."

The woman looked up at them. "I'm sorry if she bothered you," she said. "She just wandered off, and I was worried sick."

"She was no problem," Cara said. Bucky nodded, silently grabbing onto Cara's hand again.

"Thank you," she said. "For humoring her."

Bucky nodded. "No problem," he echoed. Cassie smiled up at him.

"Bye," she said, waving. "I'll see you soon, bye!"

Her mother shot them another apologetic look, as she lead her daughter away, leaving the last car.

"Cassie Lang," Cara said, musingly, as the train began to slow. "You know, I think I heard about her dad. He was on SHIELD radar for a bit after the some of the stunts he pulled."

"What he do?"

"Steal from the rich criminals, give it to the people they stole it from, drive cars into pools," she said. "Cassie was right. He's not a bad guy, not really."

"Oh," Bucky said. "What happened to him?"

"Like she said, he went to prison," she said, shrugging. "Sometimes life isn't fair that way."

She fell silent, and the seconds ticked on before the train jerked to a halt. The doors opened with a clatter. He bolted out, practically dragging her behind him, onto the platform, past all the people waiting, and far away from his past that was still aboard the train. He could imagine Steve getting off at the same time as him, chasing him, bringing back the past that Bucky could never have back.

She kept up, for the most part, and he remembered doing this before, though he had been smiling then, and he certainly wasn't now. That day, when she had gone running with him, defended him, laughed with him as he spun her around, that was the day he had fallen head over heels for her.

He wished that he could go back to that.

He wished they could go back to that.

She stumbled suddenly, and he spun around, reflexes kicking in, dropping the suitcase, and catching her before she hit the ground.

"Cara," he said, urgently. They had to keep going. _They had to_.

"Ow, shit, I'm okay," she said, gasping, clinging to his jacket, slender fingers wound tightly in the fabric. "Just hit a rock. Sorry. Come on."

He nodded, and picked up the suitcase, but moved slower. She was still breathing heavily, and he remembered that the past few weeks had been hard on her too. He tried to push down the screaming voice in the back of his mind telling him to get away, to get as far away from there was possible. As far away from _them_ as possible.

He felt her desperately trying to keep up with him, and slowed down, ducking into behind a tree. She leaned against the tree, leaning back and closing her eyes, desperately trying to catch her breath, letting go of his hand, dropping the suitcase. She grabbed her chest, where she had been shot.

"I hate this," she said. "I can't even run."

"Not your fault."

"That doesn't fix me."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It wasn't your fault, either."

"Right. And it still doesn't fix you."

She gave a small laugh. "Yeah," she said. "That's a bit hard to do, isn't it?"

* * *

_[The Continental Hotel, July 9th, 2011]_

_She had figured it out. She had been talking to Hill, and she had said that there had been no SHIELD activity in that location. No pick up, no other team. Not even a mention of her and him._

_He had been the one to tell her, and she had blindly followed him in, trusting him, because he was part of her team, because he had saved her before, he had saved all of them before, because he was a part of her freakshow, and there should have been no way that he would ever betray them. She loved him, she had told him so, and he had said it back. There should have been no way that he was a traitor._

_She sat in the hotel room, staring at the evidence in her hand. No SHIELD pickup, it read. And that meant that he was a traitor. That meant that she was an idiot._

_She had been so blind. _

_The door swung open, and he walked in. He hardly ever smiled and she was fine with that. But he always did when he looked at her. She stood up quickly. She hadn't told anyone else. She had to give him the chance to explain himself. She had too._

_"Cara," he said. "What's wrong?"_

_"Who are you?" she said._

_"What?"_

_"There... There was no SHIELD team there that day," she said, lifting up the paper. "You lied to me. Who were they? Who. Are. You?" She spoke quietly, and she was glad her voice did not shake. It made her sound confident, calm. Not at all like the mess of emotions she was currently experiencing._

_"Cara," he said. "Cara, what are you saying?"_

_"You LIED to me," she said, losing her temper. "Why? Tell me what's happening."_

_He stared at her, taking a few steps forward. He was so close she could touch him. "Have you told anyone else?"_

_"No... I wanted to give you the chance to explain yourself," she said. _

_"Fine," he said. "I don't work for SHIELD."_

_"What?"_

_"I do not work for you people," he snapped. That was what she expected, and it still didn't feel real. "But my real employers, they're the real good guys. They're working towards a world of peace, of order. Beyond anything that you could comprehend. You could be a part of that. Please, Cara, please. You could be with me."_

_She stared at him, and hated to say that she was tempted. He made her feel so happy. She loved him. She loved him. _

_But not enough to betray everyone else in her life. _

_"You're a traitor," she said. "I will never be that."_

_He nodded, and then his face became resolute._

_"Then I'm sorry," he said. Before she could move, his hand was dropping to his belt, and he was pulling out a combat knife. She managed to step back, dodging the swing before it hit her throat, but not before it caught her under the collarbone. She gasped, stumbling back, looking down at the cut, and then at him in horror. _

_She whispered his name. _

_He still came at her._

_She had been so blind._

_"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I work too hard to have my cover blown. I will kill anyone who threatens that. Even you, even you." He lunged forward, but this time, she managed to catch his wrist, twisting his arm, and using the leverage to kick him away from her. The knife clattered to the ground. She dove for it, and so did he. She managed to hold it for a good three seconds, before he made her drop it, kicking it far away. She couldn't reach it._

_His fist hit her, and she was on the ground, and his knee was in her stomach, and his hands were around her throat, and she couldn't breath. She coughed, and her nails dug into his wrists as she tried to pull him off, and she was drawing blood, she could feel it on her hands, but he would not let go. She looked at him, and he stared down at her. She couldn't even beg, and then she knew that she was going to die here. He was going to kill her._

_"I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry, I still love you, I wish I didn't have to do this. I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you."_

_Black dots danced behind her eyes, and she could feel herself slipping away._

_And just like that, he was gone. She took in a shuddering breath, and rolled on her side, and looked up to see Natasha Romanoff standing over her, pointing a gun at him._

_"On your feet," she said coldly, staring at him with a look that was some mix of hatred and disgust._

_"She's a traitor," he said, holding his head, standing up slowly. "She tried to kill me."_

_"Tasha," Cara said, through the coughs that were racking her body. She grabbed her shoulder. Her hand was slick with blood, both her own, and his. "Tasha, don't believe him."__  
_

_"Don't try that with me," Natasha hissed at him. "I heard you. Your room is bugged. Consider this an arrest."_

_He took a step back. _

_"You'll all regret this," he said. "When you know, you'll regret this!"_

_He looked down at her, smiling. He always smiled at her._

_"Goodbye, Cara," he said._

_And then he was crashing through it, as Natasha fired, several shots. She dropped down to Cara's side._

_"Cara, Cara, someone will be here soon," she said. "Just hold still, don't move."_

_"No," Cara whispered, getting up shakily, stumbling towards the broken window. Natasha followed her closely. There was no body below them. There was nothing. _

_She put her hands over her mouth and she could feel his blood and her blood on her skin. _

_And then she screamed._

* * *

[June 2014]

"Right," Cara said, leaning over the map, hair falling in her face. She brushed it back. They had rented a small cabin on the outskirts of the town, off the map. "This is where the base is, supposedly," she tapped a small clearing, about three miles away from them. "I'm not sure exactly what they do there, but most signs indicate that there are labs. The cover for is is a research facility for a company that doesn't exist. It's underground, one entrance, one key. That key is held by this man, Isaak Grail. On his person at all times," she said, pointing at a grainy picture of an older man. He seemed familiar, and his face itched at the back of Bucky's brain. "Luckily for us, I know how to pickpocket, and he's having a party tonight. We're invited."

"How'd you manage that?" he asked. She grinned, and moved her hand. Suddenly she was holding two tickets.

"Like I said, I know how to pickpocket," she said. "It's all just sleight of hand."

"You could be a magician," he said, offering her a smile, and taking the tickets from her hands. They were made of quality paper, where fancy type read that the party was indeed being held today, at some large public building. It was for charity. Solid cover. No one would think that the evil Nazi organization from hell would give to charity (although he doubted it actually exists).

"Thank you, I could," she said. "Anyways, once we get the key, we have to move, because once he figures it out, all hell will break lose."

"What do we once in there?"

"No clue," she said. "We wing it I guess. Fuck up as many of their toys as we can, then run for dear life."

"Solid plan," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Thank you."

"But really," he said. "Do we have any idea of what we're going to do?"

She shook her head, and grinned broader. "That's why it's going to be fun."

"_Cara._"

"_Bucky_," she echoed. "I have no idea of what it looks like in there. We can't plan ahead."

"Fine then," he said, crossing his arms. "Leave staying alive and getting out to me."

She leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, darling," she said. "I'm going to get changed. You should too."

"Into what?"

"Your suit."

"I hate the suit."

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her suitcase, walking towards the bathroom. "You look nice in the suit, and we _need_ to look nice."

He groaned, getting up, picked up his own suitcase, getting that horrible suit out. It was underneath an assault rifle. He'd rather take that.

"Stupid party," he muttered. "Stupid suit, stupid-"

"If you say 'stupid Cara', I will come out there and kick your ass," Cara's voice echoed from behind the door. He stopped talking. "That's what I thought."

He got dressed slowly, and was just tying the tie when she walked out. He glanced up, and did a double take. She looked how she did on the night that she went out with Lewis, with the black dress showing off her legs, and loose hair, but there was something different. She seemed slightly more at ease, although there was a determination in her step. She was beautiful. She looked up at him.

"Need help?" she said, and he realized that he hadn't moved, hands still on the tie, and was staring at her.

"No," he said, too quickly, looking at the ground. She laughed, and walked over, taking the tie, and tying it, fingers moving quickly. He stared at her, taking in just how close she was to him. He could see her much better now than he could in the train. She moved away, straightening his jacket, and looked up at him.

"You look good," she said quietly, searching his face. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips had barely brushed when she leaned back, putting her hand on his chest. "Not right now. We have to go."

She stepped away, clearing her throat, leaning down to get her jacket. He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"Do you have your ring on?" she asked. He shook his head, reaching into his pocket, and taking it out. He stared at it a moment, before he slipped it on. The gold band glinted. She held out her hand, and on hers was the matching one. He took it.

"Alright, James. Let's go break some bad guys."

* * *

_[The Continental Hotel, July 9th, 2011]_

_She was numb._

_She didn't wince as the needle was pushed back through her skin. She could barely feel anything She had refused to go to a hospital, so the med team had to come here. They said that other than the cut, and the bruises on her neck and stomach, she was fine, physically. __She hadn't said anything since it happened, though. The paramedics had said it was shock. She just... Just didn't feel like she could say anything. She didn't want to say anything. She was numb._

_Sophia was pacing in front of her, yelling into the phone. Her long hair was tied back, and she had set up several computers around the room, each monitoring for any sign of him. It was hard to get her angry, but when it happened..._

_"I don't care what you have to do, just find him!" she said. "That bastard has been fucking over my team for years. I want you to find him!"_

_"Soph," Amatus said. He was leaning against the wall, rubbing his face. "You need to calm down There's nothing we can do."_

_"No! Not over this!" she said. "I will not let this go. He tried to kill her!"_

_"I know," he said. "I know."_

_The medic finished the stitches, and began to bandage it. Natasha sat down next to her._

_"Fletcher," she said. Cara kept staring at the wall. "I know you don't want to talk. And I get that. But this was in no way your fault, do you hear me? He fooled everyone. Me. Your team. Fury himself. We were all blind. You are not an idiot. You are not dumb. You were being human. And him... He was not."_

_Cara didn't respond. She didn't move._

_"He was a no good traitor. And he fooled us all. You were the closest to him, and I know that this has hurt you. But it's okay. You'll get through this. It's gonna hurt, but you're gonna get through this. It's just one of those times when you have to decide who you are, and what you want."_

_Cara stood up, and began walking to the door._

_"Cara. What do you want?"_

_She looked back at Nat, stepping out into the hall. _

_"Right now?" she said. "I want to forget. I want to forget this ever happened."_

* * *

[June, 2014]

The concert hall was large. Bucky counted three exits on the ground floor, with the possibility that the windows could be uses as well. It was bright, and he could hear the music from where they were. They were about a block away from it. Cara had her arm looped through his, and was leaning in close to him.

"Forgot to ask," he said. "What weapons do you have?"

"Two knives," she said. "And a Glock 9 mil. You?"

"SIG-Sauer P220ST," he said. "Derringer, Glock 19, Intratec TEC-38. And five knives."

"Five kni- You are such a _show-off_," she said, hitting his arm.

"I'm an assassin. This is traveling light."

She shook her head, and smiled at the ground. "Honestly, I half expected you to bring some sort of grenade launcher."

He shrugged. "Might have. Maybe."

She stopped, looking up at him seriously. "What?"

"I mean. Maybe I did. Maybe I snuck it into the taxi. Maybe it's hidden by that tree back there. Maybe."

"You're not serious," she said.

"I said maybe."

"How?"

"You're not the only one who knows sleight of hand."

"It's a bit different," she said. "A few pieces of paper against a _grenade_ _launcher_."

"Guess I'm just a better magician than you."

"_Complete_ and _utter_ _show-off_."

"I know," he murmured with a smile, as they walked through the front doors. Someone stopped them, asking for their invitations, which Cara handed over. They were checked, scanned with something, and handed it over with a smile. Obviously they passed. At least, he hoped they did. It could be a trap.

She shrugged off her coat, and Bucky offered to take it. She leaned up and whispered in his ear. "I'm going to go see if I can get eyes on the mark. See you in a moment." She kissed his cheek, and walked off, leaving Bucky staring after her. That dress really did work for her. He shook his head, hanging up her coat, and looked around. A large glass chandelier glimmered overhead. One stair case, large, filled with scattered people. A few doorways lead off to other rooms. A few armed guards by the doors, and a few of had mingled in with the crowds, like they were undercover.

Cara had gone up the stairs. He followed her. The room at the top of the stairs was a ballroom, and there were people milling around. There was a flash of a memory, of him watching something like this from outside, watching it explode, hearing the sounds of screams and sirens, smelling the smoke and burning flesh and wood, feeling the heat of the flames on his face, and he flinched, forcing it to the back of his mind. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, and found Cara, standing by a crowd of people, laughing at something they said. She turned to him, and beckoned him over, and he found himself moving towards her. She smiled up at him, sliding her arm around his waist. He did the same, holding her tightly, the image still etched on his eyes.

"This is James, my husband," she said, introducing him to the small group. "James, these are some old veterans of these parties."

"Hello, James," a woman said. "First Grail party? Cara said it was hers."

"Yes," he said. "I don't even know what he looks like."

"Oh that's him," she said, waving in that direction. "Over there. At the center of attention, as always." The group laughed, and he looked over that where she pointed. A man matching the photograph indeed stood in the center of attention. There was a coldness about him, despite the fact that he was smiling, and Bucky shuddered. Again, looking at him made something itch in the back of his mind, and his gut twisted. It was unsettling, and Bucky suddenly desperately wanted to leave.

"Could you excuse us?" he said, taking Cara's hand, and leading her away.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, touching his cheek.

"Probably have," he said. "What's next?"

"One of us needs to get close enough to lift the key," she said.

"Right," he said. "We can do that." They began to wander over. Grail was surrounded by body guards, Bucky noticed, all very subtly placed, blending in with the crowds, making light conversation. The only reason Bucky could tell who they were was because of their weapons, hidden under their jackets, and a nearly invisible earpiece. One of them turned around gaze stopping on them. He was tall and muscular, with cold, pale blue eyes.

Cara froze beside him. That wasn't right. She knew better then to draw attention like that. He looked down at her, and her eyes were wide, almost filled with tears. She let out a shuddering breath, shaking, frozen.

"Cara?" he said. "Cara, what's wrong?" He looked back at the guard and saw that he wasn't staring at _them_. He was staring at Cara, only Cara. Something passed over his face, and he said her name, too quietly for Bucky to hear, though he could read it on his lips.

Bucky tightened his grip on her, as she began to murmur, and he hadn't heard her sound like that since she had woken up from her nightmare.

"It's him," she said, and her voice trembled. "It's him. Oh, my god. It's him. _He's here._"

**A/N:** I debated a while on how to do this chapter, which is part of the reason it took so long. I tried to make it a little fluffier, which was tricky, because Cara's backstory was physically painful to write. I've had that planned since the beginning, but didn't want to spoil anything, so haven't had her internal monologue say anything. I originally wasn't going to mention anything in this series (saving it for the Freakshow series that might never happen), but it felt right. I feel like everyone knows who "he" is. Like there was really no point in building suspense, but eh, maybe that's just me being a typical paranoid writer. If you don't know who he is, you will.

Cassie wasn't originally there, she was just some random child, but then I was like "CASSANDRA LANG WOULD BE PERFECT AND SHE CAN BE MY RANDOM CANON CHARACTER OF THE CHAPTER". Scott is a big enough nerd, he probably showed her Star Wars before she could talk.

Can anyone else see Bucky sneaking a grenade launcher to a fancy party?

Thank you all for reading! Soon we'll be seeing some things from Bucky's Winter Soldier days begin to pop up... That'll be fun.


	39. Like Ghosts

**A/N:** Love Like Ghosts by Lord Huron

"James," she said. "I can't stay. You need to finish it, or we need to run _now_. I've been compromised."

"Cara-" he began, but she cut him off.

"I've been compromised," she repeated, and she was backing away. His hand was still on her arm. "Meet me outside. By the tree. I'm sorry!"

The bodyguard turned to Grail, and whispered something. The man looked up, and nodded, staring at them. Bucky turned away, but could feel his eyes on his back, running over his skin like knives. Cara was pulling out of his grip and walking away quickly. He glanced back at Grail. His body guard was gone. His heart thudded faster. For a moment, he considered going after her, warning her, but she would tell him he should have finished the mission.

_Be careful, Cara, _he thought, as he made his way forward, silently, keeping his body language neutral. He wasn't as good at this as her. She... She had this way about her, like she was picking about mannerisms of others, and wearing them like a second skin, creating a cohesive, completely different self. He had seen her do it, with the other party goers, not noticing that she was even doing it until she had dropped the act.

He was no Cara Fox, and this was not his game.

He glanced back at the target. He could see the outline of the key on his wrist, held by a thin chain. He turned his attention some of the party guests next to him, smiling as if faintly listening to their conversation. A waiter passed Grail with glasses of champagne, and Bucky saw his chance. He walked forward, taking two glasses of the tray, and turning around with a nod, running right into Grail. The glass fell to the ground, shattering. The golden liquid splashed all over the man, and the room suddenly fell silent. Bucky's hand caught the chain of the key and had it in his hand as he backed away, uncomfortable with all the eyes now on him.

Bucky looked up at Grail, and saw a flash of something (he was in a room, unable to tell if it was light or dark, and his brain felt like it was being ripped apart, and he heard a laugh, and a voice saying something he couldn't catch, but he knew that it wasn't good).

He knew Grail.

Or he knew someone like him.

_"You look like you've seen a ghost," Cara had said. _

_"Probably have."_

Definitely have.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say, tearing himself out of his mind. "I, uh, I didn't see you. Sorry, trying to get this back to my wife. She's not feeling great."

Grail was staring at him, and Bucky hated that look, it was like a corpse was staring at him. It was a moment before the man smiled. It did nothing for the deadness in his eyes.

"No problem, no problem at all," he said. "It's fine, suits are replaceable, after all. Even if they are as expensive as this one."

Everyone laughed. Bucky gave a forced one he hoped was mildly convincing.

"Go see to your wife," Grail said, waving his hand. "I'm sure you two have business to attend to. I'll take care of this." He gestured at his suit. Bucky backed off quickly, disappearing into the crowd. A few people looked at him, and he hated their attention. He needed to get out of here, and he needed to get Cara away from that man.

He walked out into the hall, and looked around, and saw that she was no where. Neither was the guard. Running his hand through his hair, he began to slowly descend the steps. No one looked twice at him. Walking outside, he glanced around, and that's when he saw her.

"Shit, Cara," he muttered under his breath, running towards her. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into, girl?"

* * *

Cara was running away, and she knew it. She also knew that anyone else would do the same. She pushed passed everyone, catching their attention but she didn't care. She had to get out. She was compromised, in more ways than one.

She didn't stop to grab her coat, and before she knew it was standing outside under the stars, under the moonlight, the wind cold against her skin, and she shivered. Pausing against the wall, she took off her shoes. Heels were great on occasion, but they made it harder to run, and she really did not need to be breaking an ankle. Not here of all places, not now of all times.

A hand grabbed her arm (her heart stopped, because she recognized it, she knew that touch), spinning her around, and pushing her hard against the wall. His hands were on either side of her, palms spread out against the brick, keeping her trapped, but she didn't look up at him. She kept her eyes frozen on the ground. If she moved to get a weapon, he would hurt her. She wondered if she could fight her way out of this. Bucky could, but she was no Bucky Barnes, and she knew that this man had the advantage of strength, size, and speed on her, and that her only advantage was surprise.

"Cara Fletcher," he said. "Look at me."

She ignored him.

"_Look at me!"_

"Fuck you," she said. "Get away from me."

He slammed his hands against the wall, but she didn't give him the satisfaction of flinching. "Cara."

"Cassius," she said coldly. She looked up at him slowly. It was still him. He hadn't changed much at all, although he looked older, more tired. There was a dull, borderline demented look in his eye. It was like she was looking at a ghost.

"What are you doing here?" he said, and he almost sound worried. she resisted the urge to laugh.

"I'm on vacation," she said, rolling her eyes. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"You're with the Winter Soldier," he said. "Not a typical vacation."

"Who?" she said.

"Don't play dumb with me, Cara, I know you better than that."

"You _knew _me better than that. A lot's changed since the last time I've seen you."

"So I can see," he said, looking down at the ring on her finger. "Who does that belong to?" He tried to grab her wrist to pull it up closer to him. She yank it away sharply.

"If you try to touch me again, I'll cut off your hands," she said.

"Why are you with the Winter Soldier?" he said, ignoring her.

"How do _you_ know who the Winter Soldier is?"

"Stood guard by his cryo every now and then," he said. "Saw him get tuned up every now and then, saw him get his mind wiped. I couldn't forget his face." Her hands tightened into fists.

"_That's _who you betrayed us for?" she snapped. "HYDRA? And you saw what they were doing to him, and you did _nothing_?"

"I didn't betray you," he said. "And he's barely human. It doesn't matter."

"You goddamn bastard. You people tortured him. You took everything from him. You made him into what he is, made him do those things. He's more of a human than you'll ever be."

"I don't see why you care," he said. "I didn't do it. And he's a weapon, and he did what he was created to do. He is a weapon. "

She stared at him in horror. "How could I not have seen the monster you are?"

"I'm not a monster," he growled.

"Then what the hell do you call what you did to me?" she said. "To him? To all of us?"

"I just had another loyalty, and I never did anything to the Soldier," he said. "But I loved you. That never changed."

"You're full of bullshit," she said. "Get away from me."

"No."

"Get. Away."

He sighed, like he accepting that she was made at him (had she not made that obvious enough?) not moving. "What are you doing here, Fletcher?" he said. "It isn't safe."

"I can see that," she said, staring at him pointedly. He sighed again, looking down at the scar on her chest.

"Did I give that to you?"

"What do you think?"

"Damn," he said, and extended his hand. His fingers had barely brushed over the scar when she kicked his legs out from under him so that he fell face first into the dirt, twisting his arm behind his back, pinning him to ground.

"I told you," she snarled. "I told you, if you ever touched me again, I'd cut off your hands."

He smiled. "You've been practicing," he said. "You've gotten better."

"Yeah, well, after what you did, I realized I couldn't trust anyone."

"You would have done the same for SHIELD. Loyalty is all people like us have, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't have tried to _kill you because I'm not a psychopath!_"

"Cara!"

Bucky was running forward. She looked up. He took in Cassius lying on the ground, eyes darting up to her, clearly silently asking, _Are you okay?_

She gave a slight nod.

"I _never_ want to see you again, Cassius," she said, pulling his arm to emphasize her point. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you loud and clear, my love," he said, mockingly. He never called her pet names, unless they were to mess with her. She got up quickly, stooping to pick up her shoes that had fallen to the ground, running to Bucky, and grabbing his hand.

"You don't have shoes on," he said quietly.

"Very observant," she said. "We need to get out of here. That piece of shit knew who you were too."

He nodded, and she pulled him down the path, treading as carefully as she could. She hoped there were nothing sharp that would slow her down. They reached the tree (it had gnarled, tangled roots, far enough away from the side of the road that they could stand here and be unobserved. Perfect for hiding things temporarily), and Cara knelt down to grab a bag. Bucky blinked.

"Where did that come from?"

"Keep an eye out," she said, ignoring him. "I need to change."

"You brought other clothes with you?" he said. "When did you even put that there?"

"I'm not raiding a HYDRA base wearing this, Bucky," she said. "And I probably put it here before you hid your stuff. Guess we think alike."

"But I have to wear the suit?" he said. "You know I hate it!"

"You look very nice in it," she said. He opened his mouth to protect. "But that's why I brought you something too. It was expensive, and you'll ruin it, and that'll be a shame."

"I would," he admitted. "Just so then we could burn it."

"Mmm," she said. "Put on your stuff."

She turned around, unzipping her dress, and letting it fall to the ground. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw that he had looked away quickly, taking the bag to see what she had got him. It was a black shirt, and the type of pants he wore when he with HYDRA. There was the jacket too, with one arm missing.

"Where did you get this?" he said, looking up at her. She was pulling her shirt over her head.

"I found it when I took out those HYDRA agents. They had with them," she said. "In the... what did Sybil call it? 'Creepy serial killer van from hell'. I don't know why they had it."

"I was going to be transported to a new facility," he said. "And once they... Reset me, they'd probably send me to kill someone. You, maybe. Or Steve. Or whoever's running SHIELD now."

"Oh," she said. She was at a loss for words. "You don't have to wear it."

"No," he said. "I want them to see me like they intended. I want the last thing they see to be same thing that my... their targets saw."

She stared at him, and she felt such a pit of sorrow in her stomach. He looked unsure, like he thought he had said something wrong.

"Good," she murmured quickly, and she saw the edge disappear from his face. "Good."

He turned away, taking off his suit, and putting on the gear. She turned away, as he had done.

"Who was he?" Bucky said, pulling on the shirt. She froze, halfway through tying her hair back. Damn, she hoped he would ignore the fact that she had been chased out by him, and that he had found her about to kill him. She considered feigning ignorance. One look at Bucky made her change her mind.

"Someone I wanted to forget about," she said. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters now," he said. "He's working as a bodyguard for the man we just stole from."

"Well, that's hardly surprising," she said. "He's an asshole, so he must work for other assholes."

"You said he knew me."

"Yeah. HYDRA agent. Worked for a bit wherever they were keeping you."

"How do you know him?"

She shut her eyes. "He... His name is Mark Cassius. We worked together. He was HYDRA's sleeper agent on my team. I figured it out. He gave me this," she said, pulling back the strap of her dress, the scar standing out. Bucky's eyes darkened.

She remembered telling him about that, and how when he asked, she had been back with Cassius's hands around her throat, dying, and how she had told him it didn't matter, because that was easier than remembering that someone had betrayed her, tried to kill her, claimed that he still loved her even as the breath left her lungs. Sometimes it was easier to forget. She had gotten good at it, in the months that followed the attack, pushing down the memories, refusing to dwell on them, and if she had a moment of weakness and they came up, drowning them in cheap whiskey and work. She had become more reserved, more cynical, less trusting.

When Loki had attacked the helicarrier and killed Coulson Amatus, she had found herself wondering if she was doomed to lose everyone she cared about. When Sophia Vela went insane and had to be institutionalized, she knew it was true. When Sybil had had enough of her, her isolation, and her loathing, and left to have a proper career, she knew that it was her fault too. When SHIELD went down, she had needed something, anything to hold onto, because there had been nothing. And that person, that lifeline had been Bucky. If she lost him too (and she was, because it her Law, right? Eventually you lose everyone you care about. He had even said it, that he would leave her, and she knew he didn't love her, and just knowing that _hurt_), she didn't know if she could bear it.

And it had all started with that traitorous garbage heap of a human named Mark Cassius.

When she had told Bucky about it ("I trusted someone... And I shouldn't have. Simple."), she had said it didn't matter, but she was a spy, and spies lied.

Bucky had said that if anyone ever tried to do that to her again ("you can tell me"), he would take care of it. Bucky was an assassin, and he never joked when it came to that.

"What?" he said. She knew he was remembering that moment too.

"He tried to kill me," she said. "We were... I don't know, together, sort of, and that made me blind to what he really was... still is, but I figured out that he was betraying us eventually. So he tried to kill me, and I got the scar, as well as a lot more things to tell the SHIELD psychologists. They honestly must have had a field day with me. He worked for HYDRA. Didn't know that then, but makes sense."

Bucky's hand tightened as he picked up the grenade launcher. "Can I shoot him?"

"Not right now."

"If I see him?"

"If convenient."

Bucky nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer for now. He began walking in the direction of the base (northeast, about a mile away from where they were now). It was almost scary how quiet Bucky was. She occasionally stepped on a twig, or kicked a rock, the sound echoing, but he was completely silent as they made their way forward, staying to the side of the path, out of sight from anyone who happened to be driving. She caught the faint glimmer of headlights, and kept her head down. It was eerie. That was the word. Eerie. The moonlight was bright (Bucky's arm glinted, and so did the ring on his finger, and so did his eyes), and beneath it, she felt a strange mix of peace, and chaos.

The closer they got, the more and more she found herself slipping back into the mindset of Cara Fletcher, so familiar, but not entirely welcome. It was a strange feeling, one that was cold and ran through her bloodstream like a dull, pulsing poison. She had felt it when she had been at Grail's party, but then she had been building an identity. The problem was that now, alone with only Bucky, she couldn't tell who she was. Was she the reckless young agent desperately trying to prove herself to be worthy and capable, or the young woman who tried to be distant and cold and untrusting, or was she who she had chosen to be now (whoever that was)? Was there an answer? Did it even matter?

She shuddered, pushing down the questions.

They haunted her.

It all haunted her.

"Cara?" Bucky said. She almost jumped from the sudden break in the silence.

"Yeah?" she said.

"When you said you with him," he began, then paused. She knew who he meant. "When you said you together, what did you mean?"

"I don't want to say we were dating," she said, giving a bitter smile. "It wasn't technically allowed, having relationships within your team, and that term seems... childish. But we were close. I, um, I thought I loved him. I thought he was a good person. I thought we could make it, thought we had a chance. I was wrong."

Something passed over his face. "You're gonna kill him," he said, darkly.

"No," she said. "I'm not."

"Then I'm gonna kill him."

"If you want," she said. "But you're the one who said 'don't kill if you don't have to'. I'm trying not to."

"Right," he said. "I did say that."

"Anyways," she said. "I don't want him dead. I don't care enough about him to want him dead. I just want to forget."

_I want to forget it all._

He glanced back at her. "Forgetting isn't all it's cracked up to be," he said quietly.

"I know that there are things you wish would stay locked up," she said.

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "Yeah," he said. "Good point."

"Anyways," she said. "I can't forget, I just don't have to remember." She paused, catching sight of a security camera up ahead. Bucky had already seen it, and was pulling her behind a tree. He looked down at her, and it all seemed to come crashing down on him the realization that they were going to break into a HYDRA compound for no other reason other than to help him cope, to try and make a dent on an organization that had fooled the world for half a century. She knew that there was very little they could do to help. Yet she still felt that dull, subtle desire to do _something_.

"Cara, what are we doing?"

"We're facing our ghosts," she said.

"And then what?" he said. "After this, if we even survive, what are we going to do?"

"Go somewhere else. You can go then, if you want," she said. He looked quickly at the ground. "We don't have to do this. We can go."

He looked like he was considering it for a moment, but he shook his head. "There's something about this place, something about Grail. I've been here. And I know it's still dangerous. This isn't just about revenge. This is about saving others. This is redemption."

She felt her heart swell, but she knew that he didn't think about her that way anymore. That hurt.

Being near Bucky Barnes hurt, but it was a hell of a lot better then not feeling anything.

It was better than forgetting.

"You're a good man, James," she said, touching his arm.

"Stop saying that."

"You can't make me," she said. He shook his head, looking annoyed, and then he looked unsure again.

"After this. What'll we do? We'll just disappear?"

"Like ghosts," she said. "Just like the ghosts we are."

**A/N: **There are several plot holes trust me i know they are there but i am a little bit of a lazy writer and i don't want to make you all go back and read like the entire book again

If you need a reminder about who Mark is, check the Freakshow chapter ( i really wish i could have given him more development than this but no it's kinda like here's a name and a face let's forget about him for like twenty chapters SURPRISE HE'S A BAD GUY WHO CARA WAS WITH. it's all there in my brain i swear )

I tried to write this with as many references to the Lord Huron song as I could manage ( it's a great song )

And just a heads up I'm going to be having surgery on Wednesday ( nothing bad I need to have my jaw fixed because I've been in braces for 7 years and they haven't done anything ) but that means that the next update probably won't happen for a few weeks at the minimum. but when it does... it will be a fun one.


	40. Knights & Knaves 1

Staying low and in the shadows, they crept forward. Bucky had been staring at the camera's, watching as they rotated, carefully calculating the blind spots, and judging by where Cara was behind him, so had she. He pressed up against the wall.

They had exactly 16 seconds to get inside once they reached the door, or they would be spotted. And he wasn't entirely sure what they would find behind it. There was no way to turn back, now though. They would be seen. Taking the key out (it was small and ordinary... he hoped this would actually work), he looked down at the door. There was a keypad, and beneath that, a keyhole. They had no code. Nothing, but the key that was in his hand. He took a deep breath, the time in his head slowly counting down.

11.

10.

9.

He pushed key in, hearing the click of the lock. He turned the handle quickly, and slipped inside. It was dark, and he couldn't see anything at all. He paused, raising a hand to tell Cara to wait as he took a step forward. Nothing. (Well, nothing he could see, and he couldn't see anything). He waved her in.

5.

4.

She slipped in behind him.

3.

2.

The door shut. The lock clicked. Bucky tried the handle, then check for another keyhole. There was none. Unless they found another way out, they were trapped. Out of habit, he reached for Cara with one hand, and the other tightened on the gun in the other. She stepped closer to him. He knew how to use his other senses to piece together a scene, but even as he listened carefully (there was silence other than him and Cara), felt (it was cold, mildly humid... there potentially something that lead underground, he couldn't be sure. The ground was hard, probably concrete), smelled (vaguely like dirt. No. Definitely there was something leading underground), couldn't piece together where they were.

"Can you see anything?" she murmured.

"No," he said, but even as he said it, harsh, fluorescent lights began to flicker on, revealing a narrow, dirty gray hallway. There was one door at the end, no cameras, no other people, and no other signs of life. He took a step forward, letting her go, and when nothing happened, took another. He could hear Cara behind him, her footsteps too heavy, and her breathing too loud.

He found himself reaching the door, pressing his ear against it. He heard nothing. This was... Strange. Eerie. It was like everyone had abandoned the base. Cara had said it was still active. Opening it, he found a set of descending cracked concrete stairs. Water fell down from ceiling, the gentle _drip_ echoing ominously.

"Stay close," he said, and began to walk down. It was dimmer here than in the hall, but he had been trained in darker places.

"You're the one who wanders off," she said, and he shot her a look as she stared straight ahead with a slight smirk.

"Remember when you disappeared for over seven hours?" he said.

"That was _one_ time," she said, rolling her eyes.

"History repeats itself."

"Shut up, Barnes," she said, but her eyes were bright and she couldn't quite keep the smile off her face, as the reached the bottom of the stairs. She was enjoying this. And if he was being completely honest with himself, so was he. This is what he was good at. This is who he was.

The corridor branched out into two more. Both were dimly lit, identical, no signs of danger (which, he knew, was unusual, and should itself be taken as a sign of danger).

"You're walking through a dark forest, and you come across a fork in the road," Cara said. "Two men guard each path. One wears white, and is standing in front of the left road, the other wears red and is standing in front of the right road. Knights always tell the truth, and knaves always lie. One of them is a knight and the other a knave, but you don't know which. You also know that one road leads to Death, and the other leads to Life. Who and what do you ask to get to Life?"

"Don't do that," he murmured.

"Do what?" she said.

"I don't know," he said. "_That."_

"Give you riddles you don't understand?" she said, shooting him another, vaguely condescending smirk.

"I'd understand it if we had time," he said. "Which we don't. And if we weren't in an _extremely _dangerous place."

"Don't worry if you don't understand it," she said. "It's been classified as one of the most complex in the world."

"It's a just a bunch of nonsense words."

"There's an answer," she said. "There's a question you can ask to know who's a knight and who's' a knave, and that'll let you know which way to go."

"And we can talk about that later," he said. "When we're not in an _extremely dangerous place._"

"It be more fun here," she said.

"_Shut up, Fox,_" he said. She elbowed him in the ribs, and he tried to hide his smile. "We're going right."

He took a few steps in, finding it getting slowly darker. There was a door to his left. Raising his gun, he glanced back at Cara, before his gaze darted back to the door, counting to three silently, slowly mouthing the numbers. She caught on, stepping behind him as he opened it slowly. There was nothing that immediately gave him any worry. It was a small room, lined with shelves, and boxes. No movements. No signs of life. He took a step in, feeling Cara slip past him.

"Wait," he said, but she was already standing by one of the shelves. She look into closest box, lifting it up to show to him. It was full of batteries.

"It's a storage closet," she said.

"Great," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Don't leave," she said.

"Wouldn't dream of leaving something as exciting as a storage closet."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Silently, he watched as she looked through the rest of the room. Or... Maybe he was just watching her. There was a strand of her hair that kept falling into her face, no matter how many times she brushed it back. The shirt she was wearing was tight and sleeveless, and he could see the muscles beneath her skin as she pulled down another box. The pants were fitting too, and honestly, he wasn't complaining-

"Stop it," she said, not bothering to look at him.

"What?" he said.

"You know very well what."

"I don't think I do."

"You're staring at my ass," she said. "And you're not even being subtle."

He shrugged again, looking up at the ceiling, smirking faintly. It was old, filled with rot and mildew. This part of the building obviously hadn't been touched in a long time.

"Aha," she said, suddenly, pulling out a flashlight, turning it on and pointing it at him, and turning it on and off. He held a hand up to his face.

"Stop it."

"Serves you right," she said, walking passed him, out the door. "We can leave now." He sped up, making sure that he was in front of her, catching the look she gave him when he did.

He did have to hand it to her, the light did made it easier to see. There was another door, this one open slightly. He nudged it the rest of the way with his foot, looking around. It appeared to another storage room, although it couldn't be more different from the other one. It looked like it had been a work room at one point, with writing on the wall, a large desk covered in papers, and filing cabinets lining the walls. Cara pushed past him.

"Wait-" he said again, but she was talking.

"I recognize this," she said, pointing at one of the equations on the wall. She turned back to him. "This...This is a drug they thought could help control soldiers back in the sixties... They must have used this on you."

He shuddered. She was already walking in, running her hand over the old letters. She turned, to one of the filing cabinets, placing the flashlight on top, brushing her fingers over the peeling label.

"B," she read aloud, pulling it open, and moving her fingers over the files. She pulled one out, expression hard. He turned towards the door, deciding it was best to keep watch. This room felt achingly familiar and he didn't want to focus on it.

"Hey," Cara said, breaking his train of thought. He turned around.

"Yeah?"

"I think these are yours," she said, tossing something metallic at him. He caught them. They were dog tags. As he examined them closer, he realized why she had said that. That was his name, in the raised, worn letters. His number. They were his. His. _Were._ He brushed his thumb over them, suddenly young and dumb and smiling proudly as he put them on for the first time. He wasn't that man anymore.

"They're not mine anymore," he said. He threw them back at her, watching as she caught them easily. "Keep them."

She stared down at them a moment, and something passed over her face, as she put them in her pocket, before beginning to look at the papers crowding the desk.

"Look," she said. He glanced at them. There were drawings and equations and scribbled sentences. "That's your arm." He turned it towards him. It was a rough sketch of his modern one. He glanced down, curling his fingers. The metal glinted. His shoulder ached dully.

"Look," she said, pointing at one of the designs, a delicate drawing of a small, rounded device. "If we wire this in exactly like that, your arm will be emit an electromagnetic pulse that'll take out a block's worth of electricity. It can be an EMP. They must not have had enough time to do it."

He nodded, watching as she lifted up more papers, and pulled up a small metal circle, about the size of her thumb nail, with green wires poking out of it. He blink, taking it from her.

"See? Put this is in, and you could turn off this entire facility."

_A voice, remarkably calm, and painfully familiar was whispering in his ear. "We're working on the device now, sir. After this mission, we'll outfit him with the prototype."_

_"Good work," Pierce said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. Bucky flinched. "After this mission though, they'll be no more need for stealth. Project INSIGHT will be up. We'll be out of the shadows by then, won't we?"_

_Someone murmured in agreement._

_"Why, we might not even need you anymore!" Pierce said, and he was laughing. Bucky, though, he could read between the lines. They would eliminate him. He couldn't bring himself to care._

_"This plan has been in motion for a long time. And nothing, I repeat nothing, will stop us."_

_"Indeed, sir. Indeed," the first voice said. "What shall I do with the asset?"_

_"Oh, play your games with him," Pierce said. "But wipe him first. That last mission did a number on him."_

_"Of course, of course," and there was something in his tone that made Bucky afraid._

_The next thing he knew there was something holding down his arm, and he knew what was coming, he knew it, he knew it and he bit down on the rubber in his mouth, and as the pain began, so did the screams._

Bucky gasped, blinking, the lights suddenly much too bright, stepping back. His stomach was turning violently, and his lungs felt frozen, unable to take in any more breath. Cara had moved. She stood much closer to her, her hand on his arms.

"Bucky?" she said, and it was clear from the gentle desperation in her tone that it was not the first time she had said it. He shut his eyes, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead. Her hands were light on his arm, light as they traveled to his wrists. "Bucky. Bucky, what's wrong?"

"Are they here?" he said.

"What?"

"Pierce and-and... I can't remember his name. Are they here?"

"Pierce is dead, Bucky," she said. "It's only me and you here."

He let out a low, strangle groan, the ghost of the electricity that had taken away his mind so many times still lingering in brain. Oh, God. It ran down his spine, into his fingers.

"Fuck," he said. "They're worse here. The flashbacks. They're more... I can still feel it, in my head. They're real, they're happening. Shit. I mean... Shit."

"Hey," she said, pulling his hands away from his face, fingers entangling with his. "They're gone. You beat them. You're hear to make sure they don't ever win again. That's what we're doing here."

He stared at her, and it looked like she actually believed what she was saying. That was his Cara, his old Cara. She didn't know. She really didn't know anything.

"There's nothing for us in here," he said sharply, letting go of her hands, turning to leave. "C'mon. Let's look somewhere else."

"Alright," she said, not arguing. She turned, picking the file that had held his dog tags up (along with gathering some of the papers on him) tucking it under her arm, and grabbing the flashlight.

The moment he stepped through the door, he knew something was wrong. He sense someone else in the hall, multiple someone's. He froze.

"James," Cara said, and her voice sounded wrong. He spun around to find her staring up at him, pupils dilating, her mouth opening again to say something as she reached for her neck. A sharp prick hit him in the same spot as where her hand was, and he watched, almost in slow motion, as she pulled out a dart.

"No," was all he could say as she crumpled to the ground, flashlight clattering and spinning, papers flying everywhere. "No!"

The lights flicked on, revealing at least twenty HYDRA guards. Another dart hit hit him in the arm. It was enough to make him jump into action, the slowing beats of his heart counting down until he wouldn't be able to fight back any more.

He pulled the gun off his shoulder, firing once, twice, three times, each shot hitting their mark, but each getting progressively more sluggish and uncoordinated. Panic began to set in.

What if he couldn't get out?

What would they do to him?

What would they do to _her_?

He looked at her, and she was motionless, her eyes half opened, unseeing. He couldn't see her breathing.

What if they had already killed her?

He fired three more shots. Someone grabbed his arm, and he ripped away from their grip, spinning around and catching their throat with his metal hand, hurling him back into the crowd.

"Soldier," a voice said. The familiar one. The cruel one. "Stand down!" The hallway tilted as another dart hit his neck. He let out a guttural cry, almost a scream, because he was _losing_. He fired again and he thought he hit something, but couldn't tell. His thoughts were falling apart, he couldn't keep track of anything. Someone took a step towards Cara's body, and he lunged forward, knocking them away. Not near her, they couldn't come near her. He was fighting too many people.

"Stay away from her," he snarled. There were black dots swimming behind his eyes. He could feel his bones growing heavy. He heard the buzz of electricity, and saw that someone had a taser rod, and flinched, remembering the burning on his flesh, and the burning in his mind. He stood his ground anyways. "Stay away from her!"

"Stand down, Soldier," the voice repeated. "Stand down. That's an order."

"Don't touch her," he said again, and it was so hard to talk. A man stepped into view, and Bucky knew those cold, dead eyes. Grail. He raised his hand, and Bucky felt another sharp pain in the leg. He fell to his knees, dragging himself to Cara's side. He clumsily grabbed at her wrist, searching for a pulse, and feeling it stuttering beneath his fingertips. She was alive, for now. His vision blurred, but he could faintly make out a face walking towards Cara. That was him. The one who had hurt her. Before. "Stay... away from... from her."

A final dart hit his back, and it was the last straw. He sunk to the ground, unable to do anything as his hand was pried from her arm, and Cassius, the man who had tried to kill her, picked her up, carrying her away. Grail knelt beside him, as all the light and sounds began to fade, staring down at him with those dull eyes and smiling.

"Hello, James," he said, and Bucky wanted to scream, because that voice, that _voice_. Cara had been wrong, he wasn't gone. How had Bucky not recognized him before? His head hurt, his head hurt. He hadn't remembered the name of the man, but he did now. He did now.

"Oh, Soldier. What games, we're going to play, what fun we're going to have. What fun."

**A/N:** Sorry that took so long, I haven't had much access to computers, and I've been sleeping for a like a week. Most of this was written on my phone, so blame any typos (there were so many during editing) on the google docs app.

But you should all be happy because while unconscious I planned out (to the smallest detail) what the next five chapters look like. That's going to be fun.

Hope I can get the next chapter up sooner. Thank you for reading!


	41. Nine Birds & The Ninth Circle

**A/N: **_Cassius_ by Foals

**Warnings:**This chapter, and the ones following are going to be pretty dark, and I don't know exactly what I need to warn about (or how much I can without giving away spoilers), but I'm gonna play it safe. If I missed anything that you want me to mention in the future, please tell me. There's going to be mentions/descriptions of experimentation, PTSD, gross thumb dislocation, and Cassius pulls a dick move and kisses Cara, making her (understandably) upset and freaked out. I honestly don't know if I'm over reacting, and I'm sorry if I am, I just want no one to be triggered.

_She knew she was dreaming. She knew it. _

_She was walking down a narrow, dark hallway, one of the SHIELD buildings she was sure was abandoned by now, humming quietly to herself as she walked down. It was one of the songs from that Disney, Pinocchio. She hadn't seen that since she was a kid, but she still remembered the tune of one of the songs... At least, she did, in dreams. _

_Carefully, she opened a door that hadn't been there before, finding herself in her old room, bare and impersonal, looking like a human barely lived there at all. It was much bigger than she remembered. _

_Bucky sat on the bed. He smiled when she walked in, standing up. His hair was short. He wore his old army uniform. Both his hands were real._

_"You're late," he said. "And I missed you."_

_"I was running away," she said. He nodded behind her. _

_"They've been waiting for you," he said. She turned around. The back room of her room was gone, revealing that they now stood in a large circular ring, with smoke and dust rising from the ground, and there was a group of people, many of them her friends. And there were strangers, so many more strangers, and they looked so empty. None of them had eyes."They didn't think you were going to make it. But I told 'em. I told 'em that you'd always be there for me. Right?"_

_Of course, she thought, not saying it out loud._

_"Promise me you won't hate me?" he said. "Promise me you won't leave me? After everything else, I don't thing I could stand losing you too, Cara Fletcher."_

_Alright. _

_She turned around, and found that his eyes were gone too. His arm was metal, and dripping blood, his green uniform tattered with bloody bullet holes. _

_"Bucky," she said. _

_"Please, help me."_

_"Bucky!" she said, trying to reach for him. Frost began to appear on his clothes, his lips turned blue. _

_"Help me, Cara. I'm scared. I'm so scared here. It's cold. I'm so cold. I'm alone and dying, and I'm scared. Don't let me forget you."_

_She reached for him desperately, but he was out of reach. _

_She looked down, finding a bunch of dead birds at her feet. She scrambled back. _

_"One for sorrow," Bucky was saying, kneeling beside them. "Two for joy. It's true, you know."_

_"There's nine," she said. "What does nine mean?"_

_"Then, Cara, it looks like we're in Hell."_

Cara woke up with a jolt, an unfamiliar ceiling spinning above her. It took a moment for everything to come back. Where she had been. The dart hitting her neck as Bucky stared at her in horror. She drew in a sharp breath, scrambling up quickly. Her wrist caught, and she looked down. Her wrist was handcuffed to the bed, the metal scraping against her skin. She looked up.

The room was small, and she lay on a bed, against the wall. There was a desk in the corner, covered in papers. A dresser, with little on it. And she was not alone.

Cassius sat in a chair next to her. She sharply pulled back, into the corner, as far away from him as she could be.

"Sorry about that," he said, gesturing to her wrist, with an infuriating calm. "Didn't want you waking up in a jail cell, but I did need to make sure that you weren't going to escape."

"I'd be more worried about me killing you," she hissed. He smiled, giving a low, quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"You know, that's how they make the girls in the Red Room sleep," he said, ignoring her comment. "All night, with their hands just chained there. I guess that's what kept them from running off, or killing their handlers."

"What do you want?" she said.

"That's what they did to your friend, Natasha. And that's what would have happened to you, if the Deathless hadn't bought you as a baby. Isn't it funny how you both escaped that hell and ended up in SHIELD?"

"_What_ do you want?" she repeated, but her voice shook slightly, and she hated how weak it made her sound, how scared it made her look.

"I want you to understand," he said. "What SHIELD did for you, giving you a purpose, giving you a home, is what HYDRA did for me. I'm not the bad guy here."

"You're working for _Nazis_," she snapped, and she instantly regretted it. His eyes flashed. She shouldn't make him angry. He was her best chance at getting out of here. She pulled back farther, as he stood up, walking across the room, to where a desk was covered in papers, looking through them.

"Where's Bucky?" she said. "Is Bucky okay?"

"With Grail," he said. "And I don't know."

She shut her eyes. _Please be okay, Bucky. Please, don't leave me here alone._

"I want to see him," she said. "I want to see Bucky."

"I can't do that."

"Please. Please, let me see Bucky. I'll do anything. Just let me see him."

"You were stealing his medical files," he said, ignoring her, flipping through the stack of papers. "That's why you came here?"

"I wasn't planning to," she said. "But they might be useful. He's been sick before. I want to be able to help him next time."

He turned back to her. "You care about him?"

She didn't answer, mouth pressed into a hard line. He walked towards her. Her hands tightened into fists.

"You do, don't you? You love him. Like you used to love me," he said. She turned away, pressing her face into her shoulder.

_It's a sign of weakness, they'll use it against you, against him too, don't say anything_, she thought. _Just let him talk. Let him do something that'll help you escape. Then you can shoot him, and be done with all of this._

The bed sank next to her. "Look at me."

"You _need_ to stop telling me to do that," she mumbled.

"You do. You love him," he said. "And you stopped loving me."

She gave a bitter laugh. "What did you expect?" she said shortly. "You destroyed everything we had when you... When you betrayed us. I spent a long time trying to forget you, and I spent a longer time hating you."

"I didn't stop loving you."

"Funny way of showing it," she said, before mentally correcting herself. _Don't make him angry._

"But you stopped loving me."

"You certainly had the easier side of the bargain in all this."

His hand brushed against her arm. She shuddered, pressing against the wall so hard it hurt, the metal around her wrist biting into her skin.

"Please, look at me," he whispered, and she wanted to breakdown, because after all this time, he still sounded like the man she had loved, all those years ago. She raised her head, and his fingertips touched the scar under her collarbone, and he looked almost sad. He didn't have the right to look sad. Not when he had done this.

He looked back up at her, and his hand slid up her neck (she almost screamed, all she could see was his hand closing around her neck, and finishing the job), into her hair. His lips pressed against hers, and she wanted to run, she wanted to run far away, but she couldn't, she couldn't.

She closed her eyes, pretending that she was back in the apartment in New York, watching something stupid with Bucky, something he was taking much too seriously, his arm around her shoulders.

She pretended that she was at home, wherever home was, and that she was safe.

She pretended that she was anywhere but here.

He leaned back. "I know that I did things wrong."

_I'll say_, she thought bitterly, and it took all her willpower to keep from rolling her eyes.

"-and I'm sorry. But I owe nothing to the Deathless, nothing to him at all, and I won't let them sell you back there."

_Great,_ she thought, biting her cheek to keep herself from snapping at him. _I'm not going back to the evil man who does experiments on people, because I'm going to be kept prisoner by the evil organization who does experiments on people. How very comforting._

He stood up. "I have to go see what I can do to keep you here. Don't try and escape, you'll make things worse for yourself."

"Don't patronize me, Cassius," she said.

"You're still the same old Cara, aren't you?" he said with a dull smile, walking towards.

"I've changed more than you could ever know," she said quietly, but he was already closing the door behind him. "And I will not let myself be caught by you, in any way, ever again." She took a moment to just sit, hands closed so tightly her nails cut into her skin, bringing blood to the surface.

She pulled out of the corner, straining against the chain, her feet hitting the ground. Glancing around, she looked for something to pick the lock, a pin, a knife, but Cassius knew her, or at least who she used to be. Everything of use out of reach. The closest thing was a paperclip on the desk.

She pulled at it, felt her shoulder begin to ache as she strained, and sat down again, running her hand over her face, knowing what she had to do. She had only ever done this once before, and it had taken over a month to heal completely. She wondered if it was worth the risk.

She thought about Bucky, and wondered what they were doing to him. She remembered how he had held onto her, rambling in a broken mix of English and Russian. She remembered swearing to keep him safe. To do _anything_ to keep him safe. She couldn't let this happen to him.

She thought about Cassius. She wasn't going to let him win. Not him. Not HYDRA.

She was done losing.

She pressed down on the base of her thumb, and steadied her breathing, pushing down until she felt a pop. She didn't flinch, despite the searing pain that ran from her thumb to her wrist, down her arm. Shaking off the cuff, she stood up, fighting down the pain, walking over to the desk. Holding her arm to her chest, she looked through the papers, debating which ones would be worth keeping. She grabbed the EMP device, along with the instructions for installing it in Bucky's arm. That might come in handy. She folded up the paper and stuck it in her pocket.

Her eyes landed on something hidden underneath of one of the files. She pulled at it, pulling out Bucky's dog tags. She looked at his name, remembering what he had said, and that look of a dull, sad recognition that passed over his face.

"_They're not mine anymore. Keep them."_

She slid them over her head, under her shirt, feeling the cold metal fall over her chest. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, turning and walking to the door.

Pressing her ear to the surface, she listened. Hearing nothing, she opened it up, looking around. The hall was empty. It was much different here then in the front of the building.

At the front, it looked like nothing had been touched in years, everything dirty and cracked. Here, it was spotless, the floor scrubbed clean, the lights strong and and unwavering, everything looking brand new. It was unsettling.

Creeping down the hall, she carefully took in her surroundings. It looked like these were the living quarters. She hadn't run into anyone yet because everyone was probably asleep or working. As the hall began to branch out, becoming wider, the doors became fewer, and she knew that her luck was running out. Sooner or later, she was going to run into someone, someone who probably had a gun and a way to sound an alarm, and she was just a tired, hungry, worried ex-agent of SHIELD who was out of practice and had a dislocated thumb.

Even as she thought it, she heard voices, echoing in the hall. She couldn't tell how far away they were. Checking the handle of the nearest door, she found it open, and slid in quickly. One glance around told her it was empty, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like a surveillance room, with several computer monitors buzzing with static. Pressing her ear against the the door, she listened closely.

"-need to keep him contained until we can get some of the machinery working again," a voice said, which she recognized to be Grail's.

"Yes sir," another said. "They'll be prepped by tomorrow at the latest."

"There's no rush," Grail said, and it was like he was _laughing_, like he wasn't taking about torturing a person. "What about the girl?"

"Cassius has a soft spot for her, he's wants to keep her."

"Away from the Deathless? I have no loyalty to those pompous, stuffy buffoons. She'll stay here. I'm very interested to see how much of our programming has stayed with him, and she'll be very useful in testing that."

"I'll have him bring her down after you talk to the Asset."

"Good, good. Did you see how the Asset acted around her? Why, I'd say that we've done better then we could have hoped. Might even be worth keeping her alive, for pure experimental value..."

They began to fade away, and Cara shut her eyes. It looked like she was going to be used as a lab rat anyways. She shuddered, turning back to the screens. She had to find Bucky now. _She had to get Bucky out of here now._

She stepped in front of them, fingers falling lightly onto the keyboard. The moment she did, the static disappeared, revealing several different rooms. She found Bucky's immediately. He was pacing back and forth, hands clenched. There was a mark on the wall, several marks and streaks of blood, and his knuckles were bleeding. Her heart beat faster, as he turned around, and punched the wall again, and again, and again.

_It's alright, my love. I'm getting you out of here._

She looked at the screens below, and one hand flew up to her mouth, stomach dropping in horror.

There were children, the oldest looking about seven, the youngest three, about five total. They all were dressed in plain white clothes, in simple rooms with only a bed. Each had an IV attached to their arm. One of the smaller ones looked up at the camera, her dark brown eyes flashing. She took a few steps back, suddenly reliving her own childhood, a blurred mess of pain, and fear, and an _anger_, a pure unbridled rage, that no child should ever have to feel.

Her arms were being torn with more needles, and she could. She was drowning drowning slowly in some sort of chemical in, and it was poisoning her, she could it burning her lungs. When she refused to leave her room, she had been hit so hard, the bruise had still been there when SHIELD had raided the building, and when his hand had struck her, she had sworn to kill him.

She had been barely seven years old, so full of hate that she already wanted to kill someone. And she knew that if she the means, she would have done it too. She couldn't imagine others going through that.

Without thinking, she slammed all the monitors to the side, watching as they crashed to the ground, sparks flying up. Before the last screen flickered out, she saw that Bucky had stopped pacing, and was staring at the front of his cell.

She was pulled sharply out of her daze as she was yanked into the wall. Cassius held her arms tightly, glaring down at her. He was close enough that feel his breath on hers.

"You're so fucking lucky I found you before anyone else did."

She stared back at him distantly, body rigid. "Did you know about them?" she whispered, unable to raise her voice.

"About who?"

"The kids... The kids you're keeping here."

He glanced away, at the ground, before looking up at her. "Yeah. I did."

She covered her face with her hands, unable to keep from shaking as she sunk to the ground. "What's happening to them?"

"They're HYDRA's next plan. I mean, one of the next plans, at least."

"How... How could you do that? They're children, a little more than babies. They're not weapons, not experiments. How could just- how could you stand by, while that was happening? Oh, god. I don't know you. I never knew you."

He at least had the humanity to look ashamed. "Look, if they're one thing here that isn't right-"

"_One thing_," she murmured.

"-It's those kids. But I have no control over that," he said, before looking at her hand.

"How could you _dare_ say that you love me while you let that happen?"

"Cara," he began, before looking down at the bruise on her hand. "Did you do that to get out of the cuffs?"

She ignored him, thinking about Bucky, about those kids... about herself.

"Come on," he said, pulling her up. "I'm taking you to the med bay."

"Don't touch me," she said, yanking away from him and she felt sickened by the fact that he was even near her. There was no point in keeping up the charade of being kind with him. He wasn't going to let her escape. She was going to have to fight her way out of this one. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

He grabbed her wrist, and twisted her arm behind her back, slamming her into the wall. She bit back a cry of pain, mouth filling with blood, his fingers digging into the tendon that lead through her thumb.

"Cara, I may still care for you, but do not test me," he said, breathing in her ear. "I will hurt you. I won't like it, but I will."

"Go to hell," she snapped. He shoved her against it, as his phone began to beep. Keeping his hold tight on her, he took it out, reading the message on the screen.

"They want to see you," he said. "Guess you're gonna get your wish, and see your _Prince Charming_." The way he said it made her want to punch him.

"Say what you want about him," she said, as he pulled her back, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "He's a better man than you are or ever will be."

"He's a killer."

"You're a killer. I'm a killer. We're all killers here," she said. "He's still a better man than you, and he'd never hurt me, not like this."

"Not yet," he said, and she swore she saw him almost smile. "Wait until they fix him. Wait until they make him their Soldier again, their weapon. He'll hurt you then, Cara. He hurt you then."

**A/N:** Ok first of all, that new Civil War footage. Why does Rhodey look even worse, I'm really scared for him. If Rhodey dies, I say we riot. And Bucky... All the Bucky... and the creepy brainwashing concept art because I am not ok. This movie is going to be hazardous to my health. #TeamProtectTheJamesesFromThisNonsense. Also all I want is promo material with both Wanda and Sharon in it, I mean seriously Marvel, there are two women on Cap's side, can we please show that instead of having one and pretending the other doesn't exist thank u. I mean I know it's hard to believe, but you can have more than two female characters shown at one time. ( I'm sorry, I'm tired and bitter, and I want more female characters. )

You do not know how hard it is to get a gif of Bailey Chase. I had to make one from like 1 second from a trailer bless my heart for trying. This is what I get for casting unknown actors.

the dream in the beginning is such a last minute thing, and i think i used it to cope with the fact that i finished the original sandman series, like officially. the thing about about eyes was a reference to one of my favorite nightmare characters, the Corinthian, who's supposed to be like a dark mirror of humanity, so take that how you will. Plus I mean, things without eyes are creepy af.

And here's where you'll want to get off if you don't want my weird pretentious chapter title explanation, but this one I'm honestly super proud of. Nine birds means hell in the poem, as dream!Bucky said, and that was my excuse to say, they are metaphorically in hell. BUT nine is also a symbol of a ring of hell, the treachery ring, where this old 1300's self insert fanfic writer named Dante put, you guessed it, Cassius, for betraying/killing Julius Caesar. So I have no idea how that happened. I'm such a literature nerd, pls stop me.


	42. Cherchez La Femme

**A/N:** Broken Crown by Mumford And Sons

_The first thing he was aware of was pain._

_He could hear the wind whistling overhead, cutting through his clothes, and he could feel the snow, melting and numbing his skin. His head spun, and he was sure he had more than a few broken ribs. There was a strange, sharp emptiness on his left arm. He felt nauseous._

_Bucky opened his eyes, turning on his side, chest heaving as he retched up the contents of his stomach. He remembered, oddly, talking to Steve about how he had thrown up at Coney Island. God, this was worse, this was so much worse._

_He brought a hand up to his head and it came back covered in blood. The world spun around him, the tall walls of the canyon bleeding in and out of his vision. The stars glimmered overhead, and it obvious it had been hours here, in the cold, and the dark, and silence. He tried to look around, but the simple action of turning to the side made him give a short, dull cry of pain. He was on a narrow ledge, above a rushing river. A few inches to his right, and he would have been swept away in the icy current. He was already half buried in fresh snow, and the stuff under him was thick, and stained a deep red._

_He looked down, at his left arm, and blinked. All that was left was a bloody, tattered stump. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. He shut his eyes, and it was like he burning alive as he shook, tears falling down his face and freezing on his cheeks._

_But it was okay. They'd come back for him. Steve, the Commandos, Pegs, the others. They always came back for each other. They'd get him out of this._

"_I'm sorry, Bucky," a soft voice said. He looked up to see two women sitting next to him. Both of them looked at him, and both looked very out of place. One was a woman dressed in flowing, purple robes, although there was something slightly off about her face, like it was frozen beneath her hood. Her eyes were empty, pure white, and there were faint black marks around them, like flowers. The other was an abnormally pale woman dressed in a black dress with black hair, as dark as the night above them, with a swirl under her eye, and a silver necklace that flickered like the stars overhead. She was the one to have spoken. Bucky had the strangest feeling he knew them both. "They're not coming back for you."_

_He opened his mouth to speak, and instead of words, blood came spilling out. He began to cough. A few stray drops landed on his face. His lungs were frozen. Everything hurt, everything hurt so bad._

"_You're dying," the other woman said. "And they're not coming back for you."_

_Bucky blinked, the tears swimming in his eyes becoming heavier. "I-I'm mmm- dy-dying," he managed. "You-You're... D-death?"_

"_We are," they said in unison._

"_But just because we're Death, it doesn't mean that you have to die," the woman in black said._

"_We are here to offer you a choice," the woman in purple said._

"_And whatever you choose will shape the world to come," the woman in black said._

"_If you take my hand," the woman in purple said, and he saw her hand, it was a skeleton's, made of bones, with no flesh on it. She reached up, and took off her face, no, her mask, revealing a skull that smiled down at him grotesquely. "I will take you away from this pain. It'll be over, and you can rest."_

"_If you take my hand," the woman in black said. "You're going to face trials and pain unlike any other. Your actions will haunt you forever, and a part of James Barnes will had died right here anyways, despite your choice to live. You will never be the same, and James, this is only the beginning. It's going to get much, much worse."_

"_B-but?"_

"_But if you stay, you'll change the world, and then you'll help it."_

"_I'm afraid." He managed to say it without his voice trembling._

"_I know," the woman in black said, calmly, matter-of-factly. "You have every right to be."_

_He looked back up at the sky, and let out a small, bitter sob. "It. It h-hur-hurts."_

"_We know," they said in unison._

_He looked back at the woman dressed in black. "Your-your Death? Why you?"_

"_Because I'm with everyone when they're born," she said, understanding what he meant. "And if you choose to live on, you're going to be reborn."_

_He looked at the woman in purple, and then at the woman in black._

"_I-if I don't choose you," he said. "People will d-die?"_

"_People die with or without you, that is a law of life," the skeleton woman said. "They will die regardless if you live or not. But if you live, there will be some lives you have a hand in ending, and some deaths you postpone."_

_"You're lucky," the other woman said. "You have a choice. Most people don't get that."_

_"And you're unlucky. Because of your choice, your actions, and all consequences, good or bad, are on you."_

"_But you have to choose, Bucky," the woman in black said. "Will you take my hand?"_

_"Or mine?"_

_He shut his eyes._

_"I know it's not easy," the woman in black said. "But I think you know what you're going to do. I think you've known from the second we offered it to you."_

_He nodded, and the action made his brain feel like it was exploding. He looked at the woman in black, and nodded again. Her necklace glinted around her neck. She looked sad, mournful even, but like she still understood._

"_Then, James Barnes, I'm very sorry," she said, and she extended her pale hand, her nails painted black. He stared at her. "And we'll be seeing you. We always see everyone."_

_He turned back to the sky, and the stars, the night, the snow, it was so beautiful. He looked down at his arm, at his broken body, and he felt, for a moment, the briefest second, completely free of pain. He smiled faintly._

"_The fair, the brave, the good must die," he said. "And I ain't any of those. I'm just a dumb kid from Brooklyn, too stupid to turn back now."_

_And then it was back, his bones were broken, his lungs were filling with blood, he was drowning, his head was splitting, and he let out a cry, almost a whimper._

"_Bucky?" the woman in black said. "Take my hand."_

_He looked up to her, and she smiled. He reached up ,with his only hand left, and slid it into hers._

_James Barnes died. And so it ended._

_The Winter Soldier was born. And so it began._

Bucky woke up sharply, gasping for air. He sat up quickly, head spinning.

He wasn't buried in snow.

He wasn't bleeding.

He wasn't in agony.

The women were gone, or maybe they never existed.

He wasn't dying.

He shut his eyes, clutching his head, before steadying himself, and blinking under the harsh lights. He was in a room, bright, and empty. There was a clear glass window separating him from the other half, and their was a security camera in the corner. It felt more like an observation center than a cell. And he was completely alone. There was no sign of Cara, no sign of anyone.

He stood up, walking to the window. Pressing his fingers against it, he pushed, testing how strong it was. When he did, it glimmered faintly, pulsing with a dull electrical light. He pressed harder, and the light seemed to concentrate beneath his fingers, becoming stronger. He slammed his hand onto it, and it glowed before fading. He stepped back, and began to pace, like an animal in a cage, running his hands over his hair.

He had to get out of here. He had to get out, _now_. His heart was racing, and he felt sick to his stomach. He had been in this room before, he knew it, he just couldn't remember when, or what happened to him.

It was like it was running through his brain, just under the surface of what he could actually see. It was all hidden behind a curtain of iron, and he was terrified of what he would find if he pulled that back. All he knew was that he was back in HYDRA's claws, and that meant pain, and fear, and that soon they would take away his body from him, his mind away from him, and he would be nothing better than a mindless, bloody weapon. He felt the thoughts building up in his head, like a bomb counting down until the detonation. His nails dug into his forehead, and he groaned.

He thought about what Cara told him, last time he felt like this.

_You remember who you are?_

"Bucky Barnes," he breathed out loud. "James Buchanan Barnes."

_You remember who I am?_

"Cara," he said, picturing her face, trying to remember every detail. He tried to remember Cara Fox.

_When are we?_

"June. 2014."

_Where are we?_

"We're-" he began, but his throat closed up. "I'm in a HYDRA cell."

She would always nod, and flash a sweet smile, and tell him that it was okay, that he was safe. But she wasn't here to say that now, and it wasn't true anyways. He spun around, and his hand hit the wall. He didn't do it properly, either, and he could feel his knuckle bust, saw the stain of blood on the wall. The pain felt oddly distant, like it wasn't making it up to his brain. He turned back, and began pacing again.

He wasn't safe, and neither was she. Here he was, back with the people he had been running from (some of them, at least). He was alone, and he was going to be the Winter Soldier again, and she... she was... He didn't even know if she was still alive.

That thought made him hit the wall again, harder, and he grunted, tears filling his eyes, as he walked back and forth, faster, and faster. He might never know. They could have given her back to the man she feared more than anything, and HYDRA would never tell him. They could have shot her in the head, like a common execution, and he would never see her again.

He might never see Cara again. There was a good chance he wouldn't ever know what happened to her.

Anger bubbled up inside him. Anger and fear. Rage and terror and pain. That was all he felt.

He hit the wall again, and again, and again, falling to his knees.

_You're safe. You're okay._

"Where are you, Cara?" he whispered.

It was so quiet here. It was so silent. He wished that they would just come and do whatever they were going to do to him, so that he wouldn't have to wait.

His head snapped up as suddenly, as the lock clicked. He stood up, and walked, on shaky legs to the front of his glass cage. The door opened, and Grail strolled in, leisurely. There was the shape of a handgun under his jacket, and there was another key around his wrist.

Bucky stared at him, watching as the man's gaze went from the blood on the wall, to the blood on his hands, and then up to his face, smiling faintly.

"Hello, James," he said. "Are you enjoying your accommodations?"

Bucky didn't speak. He just tightened his hands into fist, and tried to control his still erratic breathing.

"Where's Cara?" he said hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper.

"You mean the woman you were with?" he said. "She's fine, as far as I know." He waved his hand, dismissing the question.

"I want to see her." _I need to see if you're lying. I make sure she's okay._

"All in good time, all in good time," Grail said. "Now, I want you to answer my question. Are you enjoying your accommodations? It looks like you are. Did you know, you could hit this window as hard as you wanted, but no matter what, you'd never break it. The technology is Asgardian, and they couldn't get through." He walked forward, looking around the cell. "Bit different than the front, isn't it? That was to lure you in, let you trap yourself. All those little facts about you, the "abandoned" rooms, the cookie crumbs. We were hiding in the shadows, like always. We knew you were coming. We knew you were here the moment you walked into town."

Bucky looked away, cursing himself for being so stupid. He should have seen this coming. It had been much too easy. And he was going to pay dearly for that mistake.

"Did you think_ I _wouldn't recognize you?" Grail said. "You were one of my pet projects. I was... disappointed when you went off the grid, of course. But you came back, and that's all that matters. Welcome home, Soldier."

He remembered those words. He remembered Pierce saying it. He remembered thinking about them in Cara's kitchen, teacup falling from his hand.

"_That wasn't home," _he remembered saying.

"_Home is with you," _he told Cara, and she had blinked those green eyes up at him, almost in surprise. _"Or with them. With my family."_

He remembered his family. A father he never knew, killed in another gruesome war, and a mother whose hands were rough, who was always tired from working hard, and a stepfather who was kind to him before dying from some bad strain of influenza, and three little sisters, three sisters who had need their brother, and he hadn't been there from them.

_Welcome home, Soldier._

This would neverbe his home. He would never let it.

"Do you remember who I am, James?"

Bucky didn't answer. He felt nauseous, and it took all his will power to keep from shaking.

"I'm the one who kept you running all these years, after Zola passed. That was a tragedy. That man was a genius. But I, I added to some of his designs. Zola and Johann Fennhoff, they had been working on ways to reign in the mind for years, and their work on you was incredible. You had such a strong spirit in the beginning. It took months for you to become even mildly suited for this. It was the memories that tied to down, you see. Some modified SSR tech was introduced, and there! Here you are. To study it in person, I am grateful. Over the years I sharpened it. There was not as much need for the brute force as they needed originally, but there were plenty of things that needed to be fine tuned."

"I'll fight harder this time," he said, quietly. "None of you will own me again. I am _mine_. I am no one else's. Not HYDRA's. I am human."

"Oh, Soldier, but you are the _Asset. _You are an experiment, a weapon with a human body. No one is saying you're not human. But you're HYDRA's, forever and always. We _saved _you, don't forget that."

Bucky hated him. He hated him, because he was _right._ They had saved him. He would have died there in that canyon, abandoned by his friends if that hadn't brought him back. He felt his mind began to pound, and desperately hoped he wouldn't remember anything. He couldn't deal with that. Not here, not now.

"Please. Just let me see Cara, and then do what you're gonna do to me. Just... Get it over with."

"Cara. That's a pretty name," he said, looking thoughtful. "She's the one you called your wife, right?"

Bucky waited a moment, and gave a short nod.

"You're not really married to her, are you?"

Bucky didn't speak. He was still wearing his fake wedding ring. His hand curled around it, blocking it from view.

"No, no, you aren't. That doesn't sound like you," Grail said. "She is pretty, but I don't think someone like you would grow attached so quickly. In fact, I didn't think that someone like you could grow attached at all."

"Just-" Bucky began. "Just, please, let her go. She doesn't belong here. I'll do anything you say. Just let Cara go."

"You _like_ her, don't?" Grail said. He leaned forward. "How _much?_ If I was to bring her in here and shoot her in the head, making you watch, what would you do?"

The room began to spin, and it felt like the ground had been dropped from beneath him.

"You wouldn't _dare_," Bucky said. Grail smirked, pulling out the gun from under his jacket. Bucky lunged forward, throwing all his strength into his body as he banged his fists on the window. The shield went up, the dull gold light flickering up and fading quickly.

"Attachment is dangerous, James, you know that," he said. "And in your case, it's fatal. A proper soldier, a proper asset, should have no attachments, no strings that would prevent them from completely their mission. Yes, attachment in your case can be deadly for both parties. So we must eliminate them."

"If you even touch her, nothing will be able to stop me from ripping your throat out," Bucky said, voice rising. Grail tilted his head, not even having the humanity to look concerned, only vagelu curious. "She's not a part of this. _She's not a part of this!_"

"But she was SHIELD?" Grail said. "She was a part of this before you barged into her life. She was our enemy before she even met you. She is _your _enemy now. We're just getting rid of her."

"_Leave her alone!" _Bucky said, practically screaming. He hit the window again, much harder. Pain shot up his real arm, and he could the impact echoing though where his metal arm connected to his shoulder. He buried it, pushed it down. He had to fight, he had to fight, he wouldn't let them win. If they won, Cara would die. If they won, he would be gone.

"That isn't like you, James," he said. "None of this is like you at all. So many emotions. We best eliminate them as well, once the machines get up and running."

"You don't want me as your enemy," he said. "You don't want me as your enemy, Grail, you know what I am capable of, you know what they trained me to do!_ Leave Cara alone!_"

"Emotional reactions. Reckless behavior. Threats to handlers. Your little time away certainly did a number on you," Grail mused. "Ah. Well. Cherchez la femme."

And he smiled his cruel, twisted, smile, and his eyes, his dead eyes, mocked him, and Bucky wanted to scream as everything fell apart around him. He was going to lose Cara. He was going to lose himself. And there was no chance of the pain stopping this time, and he was _scared. He was so scared_, and he knew he had to _keep fighting_, because if he stopped, it would seal his fate_. _

"Bring her in," Grail said. "Bring in Cara Fletcher."

**A/N: **BUCKY DIDN'T GET (PHYSICALLY) HURT AND NO ONE DIED LOOK AT THAT GUYS.

Imagine how much Marvel and DC would hate what I did with their Deaths. Imagine it. This is why I live. I love comic Deaths, and I love doing things that would piss off Marvel/DC.

This is shorter than I thought it was going to be because I wanted to get it up fast. I'm was so excited.

Bucky's human and he's in a bad place in every way speaking and I could barely touch on that here. More will be coming, so if it seems shallow I hope to go more in depth later, I just need to do it carefully, and it isn't really something you can rush or sum up in 3000 words.

Stay tuned the Bucky/Cara reunion is next chapter, and it's going to be fun for me to write heheheh


	43. Russian Roulette

_"You're gonna lose your soul, t__onight, tonight.  
__Oh, you're gonna lose control, tonight."_

**_\- Lose Your Soul, Dead Man's Bones_**

_Bucky had been staying with Cara for barely a week when he had first slipped up, and made a mistake. And that mistake was realizing that he was, for the moment at least, his own person, and that he needed to make his own decisions. _

_The thought terrified him. _

_For the most part, he kept his distance from Cara. She never directly told him to do anything, (except eat and drink, murmuring that she couldn't always be around to remind him, and that he needed to take care of himself, sometimes punctuating these sentences with a light touch on his arm or back. He was learning not to flinch when she did that). _

_Mostly, she would smile politely at him, and make small talk, and he would help her wash dishes, or clean up, or cook, although neither of them were very good at that (it was a miracle that they hadn't burned down the entire apartment complex by now), before he always retreated back to his room. _

_Sometimes he would leave through the window, and wander around the city aimlessly, marveling at how it all changed. Sometimes he wait until she was out, and make sure that there was a weapon in every room, and that he was stocked up on first aid supplies, just in case. __Sometimes he'd walk with her, and she would talk to him, and he'd mostly listen. He really didn't mind, he liked her voice, and sometimes, when he would say something, she would laugh, and he realized that he like the sound of that too. _

_S__ometimes he would end up in the corner, eyes screwed shut, hands over his ears, because that screech of a car outside sounded too familiar, that bang of a dumpster sounded too much like a bomb going off, and that shouted conversation with words he couldn't make out was too close to wartime. __Sometimes he would just sit there, and stare at the wall, and let his mind go blank, because that was the easy thing to do. _

_But no matter what he did, his actions were his. And he was afraid._

_He was a soldier, and that was all he knew about himself. He knew how to take orders. But now he had control, control over his fate, control over himself, and he wasn't sure what to do with it._

_But he also knew something else. _

_Despite being scared, despite being confused, despite being lost, left with a name of a ghost, a man out of time, a man out of his mind, with no true identity, he loved it._

_He loved being in charge of his soul, no matter how terrifying it was. _

* * *

"Bring her in," Grail said. "Bring in Cara Fletcher."

Bucky watched in horror as the door opened and Cara was pushed in, arm twisted painfully behind her back by Cassius. She looked furious. Her eyes darted up to him, and she jerk forward slightly, as if trying to pull out of the hold, _as if to move towards him_, only to be yanked sharply back. She bit her already bloody lip. She looked haunted and exhausted and like she was in a great deal of pain, but she was alive.

She was alive.

"Hello, Cara," Grail said, walking towards her. He still held the gun. A revolver. Bucky couldn't breath. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance personally. James here has painted quite the picture, and you certainly don't disappoint." Grail touched her cheek, and she flinched, gaze dropping to the ground. Bucky wanted nothing more in that moment than to be close enough to snap his neck. He turned back to Bucky.

"Let her go, Agent," he said. Cassius did so, and Cara shifted, bringing her arm to her chest, keeping her head down, shoulders hunched. She looked small, and vulnerable, and utterly defeated. Grail pushed her towards the glass, and she stumbled.

"Go say hi to him. Don't be shy, there's a good girl. And Agent?" he said, looking back at Cassius. "If she decides to make trouble, shoot her, and shoot to kill."

Cassius took out his gun, and raised it, leveling it with her head. Cara's eyes flashed with a muted hatred, before she turned back to Bucky. She walked forward slowly, until she was standing right in front of him. He pressed his hands against the glass, and looked tried to see how badly she was hurt. Her wrist around the base of her thumb was swollen, it looked like she had dislocated it to get out of handcuffs. Her lip was split again. She put up her hands as well, over his, almost like if she pressed hard enough the glass would disappear, and their hands could touch.

"Cara?" he whispered hoarsely, leaving the rest of the question unsaid. _Are you okay?_

"Hey, Bucky," she murmured, giving him a small smile in answer.

"You're bleeding," he said.

"I got knocked into a wall," she said, shrugging. "You're bleeding too."

He looked down at his knuckles. "I hit a wall," he said, mimicking her tone.

She laughed softly (he loved her laugh), as he tried to think of something else to say.

_I'm sorry. __We're going to get out of this. I'm sorry. __It's going to be okay. I'm sorry. _

A gun cocked, interrupting his thoughts, making him look up. Grail had the gun pointed to at her head. Cara didn't turn around, eyes closing.

"Please let her go," Bucky said, desperately. "You proved your point. But I'll never see her again. I won't remember her. Let her go. Wipe my memories, no more attachments, she walks free."

"Soldier, if these few weeks have proved anything," he said. "It's that that machine is highly unreliable. We'll be taking other measures."

His finger moved toward the trigger. Bucky glanced between her and the gun, and back at her. She was staring up at him, and he saw that, even just for a moment, she was terrified.

"Stop it," Bucky said. "_Stop it!_"

His finger tightened on the trigger, pulling it back, but instead of a _bang_, there was a small click. Grail smiled at him, and lowered the gun. Bucky suddenly felt like he could breath again.

"It's not even loaded, Soldier," he said. "Well, I mean, it is. One bullet. I don't know where it is. A little game of Russian Roulette. I'm going to shoot this three more times, and if she lives through that, you have my word, she lives through the night. Deal?"

He raised the gun again, before calling back to Cassius. "Your order still stands, Agent. If either of them make trouble, take chance out of the equation, and eliminate her."

Bucky looked frantically down at Cara, hands curling into fists against the glass. She offered him a weak smile. His heart hammered in his chest, and he desperately tried to think of what to do. He couldn't get out. If she tried to fight, she'd be dead. But there had to be something. There had to be _something_ he could do_._

"Cara," he said. "Cara, I'm sorry-"

"It's okay, Bucky," she said. "It's going to be okay."

The gun cocked and she flinched, staring up at him, eyes darting around his face, like she was memorizing it.

The gun clicked.

"Strike one," Grail said.

"If she dies," Bucky said. "If she dies because of this Grail, I swear, I'll kill you. I burn this place to the ground."

"Bucky," she said, like she was trying to calm him down. "It's okay. You'll be okay."

He read in between the lines._You'll be okay if I'm gone. __If I die here, you will be okay._

_I won't be, _he thought, panicking, and all he could see was images of her dying, right there in front of him. The sound of the gun shot, and her skull breaking, and the stain of her blood on the glass in front of him, and her body rigid and cold, crumbled on the ground. They were ugly, horrific images, and he knew how it would happen, he knew every detail, because he _knew _death, and he knew how it worked.

Grail just smiled, and smiled, and the gun was back in position, and he was pulling the trigger. She shut her eyes again, not bothering to hide how she felt. She was scared.

The gun clicked.

"Strike two," Grail said.

"Cara, I'm sorry," Bucky said. "I'm so sorry I got you into this."

She looked up at him sharply. "This is not your fault, James. Nothing that happens here is your fault. Don't blame yourself for this. Whatever happens, promise me you won't blame yourself. Promise me."

The gun cocked.

"Cara-" he said desperately.

"Promise me, Bucky!" she said, almost wildly, and there were tears in eyes. She seemed to want to say more.

He hesitated, wondering if these were going to be the last things he said to her. He wondered if he should say anything else. "I promise," he said softly. "I promise, Cara."

The gun clicked.

Bucky gave a small gasp, resting his forehead on the window, closing his eyes for a moment.

_She was alive. _

"Strike three," Grail said, sounding not disappointed, no, but pleased, as if this were an experiment, and this was the outcome he wanted. He lowered the gun. "You're out."

Cara had turned her gaze to the ground, hands falling to her sides, leaving his uncovered and alone on the glass.

"When you were first brought to train as the Winter Soldier," he said, as he turned, walking leisurely towards the door, handing the gun to Cassius. "They did a test. You would be handed a gun, and sat down at a table. There would be three chairs in front of you. In the chairs would be a man, a woman, and child, a small family, and you were directed to kill two of them. You refused, and all three were shot dead. The next day they brought in another man, woman, and child, and this time you did. You killed the man and the woman, and the child lived. They did that in addition to your regular training, every day for months. They would change it up, of course. Three prisoners. Three children. Three civilians. Once, they had you train with a team, bond with them, only to be ordered to kill all but one. It desensitized you, until you no longer saw the horror of your actions, no longer felt anything about the pain you inflicted. You only knew your orders, and that was all that mattered."

Cassius walked towards Cara, and grabbed her arm, yanking her sharply back. She barely reacted, as if any display of emotion would make her break down. She looked up at him, almost as if in despair.

"Ah, wait," Grail said, turning around as he reached the door, shaking his head. "We don't have anywhere to put her, do we?"

Something dark passed over Cassius's face, almost akin to jealousy, and his grip tightened on Cara's arm. Grail snapped his fingers, and the window rose. Bucky wanted to rush forward, kill him, and anyone who got in the way, but the potential risks were too big. He couldn't do that with Cara right there, and Cassius's standing orders to kill her if either of them did something. Grail nodded to Cassius, who threw her into the cell. Bucky lunged to the side, catching her, pulling her close. She rested her head over his wildly beating heart, holding on to him tightly.

"Keep your girlfriend, Soldier," Grail said. "For now."

"I'm not his girlfriend," Cara murmured against his chest. Grail ignored her.

"Did you know that Steve Rogers, Natalia Romanova, and Sam Wilson are in town? They're investigating us. Who would you kill, if I put Steve, and Cara, and a civilian in front of you? What if the civilian was a child?"

Bucky was silent, shaking, every muscle tensed, knowing only that he was going to kill that man... he was going to have him murder people, aware of it. He was going to have him murder Cara. Murder Steve. Murder Natalia. Murder Sam Wilson, and probably the other Avengers too. Murder anyone who stood in HYDRA's way. Murder innocents. Cara was watching him, eyes wide and worried.

"You know what we're going to do," he said. "We're gonna test it. Test it until you're the Winter Soldier again. Until all attachments are eliminated."

Both Cassius and Grail left and the door closed, but for a few moments, neither him or Cara moved.

"Are you alrighht?" she said. He thought about telling the truth, that no, he wasn't, there was _absolutely no way_ he could be anything remotely close to fine in this situation, before settling on lying, and nodding. He looked down at her swollen wrist, his fingers brushing over it, before lightly kissing her forehead.

"I thought they killed you," he whispered. Her fingers twisted in his shirt. "When I was alone, I didn't know where you were, and I thought you were dead. And, then you were there, right there in front of me, and I couldn't do _anything_."

"It's okay," she said. "It's alright, it's okay. We're going to be okay."

"How can you know that?" he said. "_How can you possibly know that?_"

She pulled back, just enough to stare him dead in the eyes. She gently touched his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, shutting his eyes for a moment, reaching up to cover her hand with his metal one. It was distant, and cold, and not at all what he wanted right now, but the only thing he could manage. He wanted to wake up, have this all just be another nightmare, and she would come in, and tell him it wasn't real, that he was okay, and it would be true, and he would believe it, and then he could hold her, and everything would be okay.

She stared and him, and despite the gentleness in her gaze, he saw the determination in the line of her mouth, and fear flickering behind that blank mask she wore.

"I know it, Bucky," she said. "I'm getting you out of here, I have a plan. It's okay. We are going to be okay."

* * *

_One night, Cara had come home late, and he had been waiting for her, having ordered food (by himself, with no reminder from her. They had both decided that it was probably for the best that they kept cooking to a minimum, after one incident ended a product that could only be described as poison), and set it up by the time she got home. She had smiled at him (the smile was becoming less polite and more genuine), and called him sweet, and had trailed her fingers on her shoulder as she passed, and his heart had beat at what felt like a thousand times per second. _

_He carried on almost a full conversation over dinner before he had broken it off abruptly when she mentioned something about memory, but he had made her laugh twice. She had fallen silent after he had, but when ever he looked up at her, she smiled at him, and then she had reached across the table and taken his hand, and squeezed. Neither of them said anything else, but it didn't really matter. _

_He had known then what this autonomy meant to him._

_It was all he had. His identity was a jumble of broken pieces and shattered glass, his memories might never all return (and he knew that that was a blessing as much as it was a curse), and his names belonged to strangers. __But his control, his soul, were his. _

_And losing that would kill him._

A/N: I cut out a bunch here, that's why it's so short (life's kinda hit me hard the last few days, I've returned to normal life, and I don't like it). If I tried to add it in, it would be like 4500 words, and wouldn't be up for another week and I couldn't do that to you guys after leaving a bunch of cliffhangers in a row.

I experimented a bit here with the bookends / style, because I miss the apartment, and kinda wish that I had spent more time dealing with Bucky's PTSD. Again, it's not an easy subject to write about, and I feel like I rushed it and their relationship a lil bit... But eh, I guess that's what flashbacks are for.

I saw Deadpool finally, and there's probably going to be some cameos starring God's Perfect Idiot at some point. Also Elektra cameos too because hot damn that Daredevil trailer, I've been screaming for _weeks. _


	44. Knights & Knaves 2

_**"Cage me like an animal**__, a crown with gems and gold  
__**Breathe **__in, __**breathe **__out, __**let the human in**__  
If __**I lose control, I **__**feed the beast within**__."_

_**-Human, Of Monsters And Men**_

"I'm getting you out of here, I have a plan. It's okay. We are going to be okay," she was saying, but there was still a hard edge of doubt in his chest. They knew how to hurt him. They knew how to keep him trapped. They had done it for decades. How could he fight back now, _escape now_, when they had more to hold over him? When they had _her_ to hold over him?

He shook his head slightly. She was watching him, and she could read every emotion on his face, he knew that. Her hands tightened on his arms, and her eyes flashed, and she _almost_ looked angry.

"Don't you _dare_ think about giving up," she said. He blinked. "Don't you dare."

"I'm not."

"You are," she said. "And we can't do that right now. We need to work. We need to get the camera." She pulled out of his arms, making her way beneath said camera in the corner, looking up at it. "I don't want anyone watching us like we're lab rats or something."

He took a few steps, until he was next to her. The camera wasn't exactly high tech, probably hadn't been updated in at least two decades.

"How are you going to get it down?" he said.

"I have an idea," she said, as she put her hands on his shoulders. "Help me up?"

He nodded, bending down with his hands clasped. She stepped up, pushing up, at the same time fluidly pulling a scalpel from her pocket, using it to scrape away the paint, and pry the bottom of the camera up. She grinned, pulling it sharply down, the electricity popping. She was lucky she didn't get shocked.

"Got it. You can let me down," she said, and he let her drop sharply into his arms, catching her easily, one arm under her back, the other under her knees. She gave a small squeak, looking up him indignantly. "_Bucky!_ What the hell!"

He smiled (it felt good to smile, it felt good to forget the dull ache of fear in his chest... or almost forget it), and she shook her head, lightly slapping his arm. She was blushing, obviously not happy about the fact that she had _squeaked_ or that he was holding her like this.

"That's not funny, you almost dropped me!"

"I would never have let you hit the ground."

"Put me down, jerk," she said, glaring up at him. She wasn't really mad, he could tell, she might even have been amused, but he did as she said, keeping a hand on her waist. He didn't want to let her go, not right now. She threw the camera into the corner, where it cracked and shattered. "Now they can't see us. And now I'm going to make your arm an EMP." She pulled out the small disk, looking up at him.

"You know how to do that?"

"I have the instructions," she said. "Can't be that hard."

"It's only something that requires a PhD," he said.

"Oh, well, next time get captured with someone that has a PhD, then," she said, rolling her eyes, faint amusement lingering on her features before she became serious again. "But this is the only way we're getting out of this. If... if I try to fight my way out, or if you do, I'm dead. I'm expendable to them."

Pulling her closer, he kissed her temple. Her breath caught slightly.

"That's not going to happen," he murmured into her hair. She leaned back, her fingers trailing over his cheek.

"Whatever you say, Bucky."

Taking a few steps back, she sat against the wall, motioning for him to join her. He glanced at the door.

"It's not a sign of weakness to sit down," she said. "Come on."

He moved slowly, sitting next to her, back pressed against the wall. She turned to him, reaching into her pocket, and taking out the EMP device, and a piece of paper, putting them down next to the scalpel.

"Where'd did you get those?"

"Got this from a med cart on the way over here," she said. "Thought I could repurpose it for something like a screwdriver."

"Didn't they take the EMP off you?" he asked. "Along with your weapons?" They had taken his. Even his fucking grenade launcher, which really pissed him off.

Her mouth hardened slightly, and she bit her lip, glancing away, taking his hand, and flipping it over so she could see his forearm, tracing over the panels, lightly, eyes dropping to the instructions at her side.

"Yeah," she said. "But I got it back.

"What happened?" he said. "While you alone?"

She didn't look up at him as pressed the edge of the scalpel under one of the lines, until it released, sliding back.

"Nothing that matters," she said, too quickly for him to brush it off.

"_Cara_," he said. She paused for a moment, eyes darting up at his.

"I was... um. I... I talked to Cassius," she said quietly. "That's where I was when I got this," she held up the EMP, "-and this," she pointed at her wrist. Bucky noticed that she was avoiding using that hand.

"He didn't do that to you, did he?" he said.

"No," she said, looking back at his arm. "He knocked me into a wall when I called him out on being an asshole, but I did this to myself. He probably didn't make it any better though."

"Bastard," Bucky muttered under his breath.

"You're not wrong," she said, with a small tilt of her head, and an even smaller smile. From the way she was avoiding his gaze that there was something else, but he didn't press there.

"I can still kill him for you, if you want," he said, a part of him almost hoping she'd say yes, if jsut to keep her from ever having to face him again.

"Same answer as before," she said. "If convenient."

He nodded, watching as she pushed the EMP into his arm, trying her best to connect it with what she had. Her hair fell in her face, and she would sometimes lift a hand to push it back. She looked remarkably calm, given their situation. It was a sharp contrast to the terror he had seen in her gaze as she begged him not to blame himself for anything that happened to her.

"You looked scared," he said, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. She glanced up at him. "Before, I mean. When _they_ were here."

"I was scared," she said simply, shrugging, and looking back at her work. "Anyone would be."

"You don't now. Look scared, I mean."

"They needed to see what they wanted," she said, poking at a wire in his arm. "But right now, I can pretend. I can pretend I'm not scared, and I can pretend I don't want to I can pretend to know what I'm doing now. "

"You mean you don't?" he said.

"Not in the slightest."

He snorted. "Glad you're the one messing around on my arm."

She shook her head, smiling. "You know, I'm not that dumb."

"I know that, Cara," he said earnestly, dropping the act for a moment. "You were smart enough to fool me for weeks."

"Well, that says more about you than me," she said, eyes twinkling.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he said, squinting at her.

"Let's just say you're lucky you have your looks."

He lightly pushed her arms. He shook his head, smile ghosting over his lips. She grinned as she brushed the sweat off her forehead, before leaning down, crossing one of the wires.

"So, what's the answer?" he said. She looked up at him.

"What?"

"Who stands in front of the door to Life? The knight or the knave? Since obviously I'm too stupid and beautiful to figure it out."

"Oh, I wish I had a recording of you saying that," she said, grinning. "'Stupid and beautiful.' You're never living that down."

He glared at her. "Cara, I swear-"

"Don't feel bad," she said, cutting him off with a laugh. "Took me three days. You ask either of them if they would tell you that their door leads to Life. If they say yes, then their path leads to Life, and if they say no, then it doesn't. It doesn't matter which is a knight or a knave, because you'll get the answer to your question."

Bucky leaned back. "Doesn't matter who's lying?"

"Not really. It only matters that you get where you wanted."

He looked at her, and she was concentrating hard, falling silent. Her hurt arm was tucked up to her chest. He raised his other hand, brushing her hair back from her face, fingers lingering on her cheek. She looked up at him, and they danced down to her lips, still healing. She was battered and bruised, and everyday, it seemed to get worse and worse. He wondered if there would ever be a day when it all got to be too much, and she wasn't able to bounce back, and he'd be staring at her body. Her eyes met his, dark and wide. He wanted to kiss her again, but this wasn't the right place or right time, and he knew that it hadn't been the right back on the train. He had just been so _desperate_ for a connection with anyone that he had made a mistake.

But it was different now. He had almost lost her. He might still lose her.

She turned away sharply, clearing her throat. "It might work now," she said, pushing the panel back in place.

She leaned against the wall next to him, pressing in close to him. He didn't mind. In fact, he even searched out her hand, entangling their fingers (part of him wished that she was on the other side of him, where his real hand was. Another part was thankful. She was between him and the wall, and he was between her and the door and anyone that would come in).

"How do I do it?" he said.

"Just think about the discharge of energy," she said. "And hopefully it'll fry the circuits and we'll be able to get out in the chaos."

"We should wait until they come back."

She watched him. "We'll have to fight our way out. If we did it now, the door might open."

"But it might not," he said. "Wait for them to come back."

"We won't have a chance to do it over again," she said. "I won't be able to have time to fix it."

"But the door'll be open, and we could just get out that way."

"Through the highly trained bad guys?"

He shrugged. "That's fine. I'll can handle them."

"Bucky, you're tired. How long has it been since you've eaten, or slept?"

"It's cute you think I need those," he said, smiling a tight lipped, grim smile.

She blinked. "You're human. Of course you do."

"Not here," he said. "I'm not human here." It hurt saying that out loud, admitting what he had always known. Her eyes widened a fraction, and her hand tightened on his.

"Bucky-" she began.

"Longest I've been without sleep in a combat zone is just under a week. Longest I've been conscious without food is longer. Ten days, maybe? I've been functional through all that."

"Stop it," she said. She was staring at him in horror, but he couldn't stop talking.

"Water was different. Only three days. Right on the brink. Got lost in the woods, there was no clean water supply, couldn't drink until it rained. And once while I was talking back during training. Didn't do that again-"

"_Stop it!_" she said. He did this time, looking away from her.

"Stop what, Cara?" he said coolly.

"Stop talking about yourself like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're one of _them_," she said. "Like you're nothing more than a weapon, or a-"

"And you think I'm not?" he said. "Didn't you hear what I did? I'm a weapon to them, the fist of HYDRA. I shot two people a day for them, for I don't know how long, and I can't even remember it. I've done worse than that, too. Mothers in front of their children. Children in front of their mothers. Burned down buildings with over thirty people inside. If you saw it, my orders, the things I've done, the things _inside my head_, you wouldn't think about me as human-"

"You gave me your coat," she said, cutting him off.

"What?"

"When we were attacked in the rain. You could have run. You could have let my throat get torn out, you could have left me there, and ran. But instead, you grabbed my hand, and stayed with me, and gave me your coat so I wouldn't be cold. Was that because you're a weapon?"

"I-"

"Or what about when I went missing, and you went out looking for me, and when I did come back bloody and bruised, you made sure I was okay, and gave me an ice pack. Was that because your a weapon? What about your nightmares? Weapons don't have nightmares, they don't feel scared, they don't feel guilt. What about when you dragged Steve out of the Potomac, or when you stopped those men at a restaurant, or the bullies from beating up that kid, or you talked to Cassie? Did you have orders to do any of that?"

"I... No."

She nodded. "And what about me?"

"What about you?" he said quietly.

"Did you love me?" she said. "Before you knew who I was. Did you love me?"

He opened his mouth slightly, and no words came out. She was watching him, and he couldn't read her expression. It might have been hope, it might have been dread, it might have been nothing.

"Yes," he said, finally.

"Did anyone tell you to do that?"

"No."

"Weapons don't love. They're cold, and inanimate, and they are not human. Bucky Barnes, you are the farthest thing from that. You're human, and better than that, you're good. You're a _good_ _person_."

His eyes were burning. He stared at ground, tears swimming in his eyes. He didn't know if it was because she had said it, or if it was because he _could_ _not believe her_. She was turning his face to her, she was worried, and he swiped at his eyes quickly. She leaned up, kissing his cheek lightly.

"It's alright," she said. "It's alright."

He cleared his throat, shaking his head, pushing down the emotion. He tried doing what Cara did. He tried putting on a mask, he tried becoming a different person.

It worked. He felt numb, and alert, but he wasn't losing control of his emotions. That could wait.

"Are you sure _you're_ okay?" he said. She squinted at him, obviously judging his sudden shift in demeanor.

"I should be asking you that," she said.

"I'm not," he said. "What about you? What else happened to you?"

She hesitated, turning away from him, to the wall in front of them. "They have... They have kids here."

"What?"

"Little kids. Babies. They're using them as lab rats. Like they used us. Like they use _me._Like-like lab rats."

If he felt sick before, it was nothing compared to this. He thought about his sisters, and the girl from his memory, and that photographer kid- Peter Parker, and the boy that ran away from bullies, and little Cassie. He imagined what happened to him happening to them. He imagine what happened to him happening to Cara when she was a child.

"Shit," he said, putting his head in his hand. "Fuck."

"We have to get them out, Bucky," she said.

"I know," he said. "We will."

She was quiet for a moment. "I was back there when I saw them. I found a moniter, and I could see into the rooms, I saw you, and I saw them, and I was back there, where I was born, and I couldn't handle it."

"You don't have to talk about it."

"No... It's just. Cassius made it real, being here, I mean. That was a part of my history I never wanted to face again. He was the first person I ever really loved that way. First person I ever really looked at and thought 'Hey. I could be happy living the rest of my life with you.' But then he just... _broke_it, you know? And for a while, I didn't know what to do, because how could I trust anyone after that? How could I trust myself when I went and let him in?"

She stopped for a moment, and he gave her hand a light squeeze, watching her stare aimlessly at the wall, almost like she didn't even remember he was here.

"He made it real. It wasn't a way to escape reality by breaking shit. But those kids, God, they made everything else real. The Deathless, HYDRA, you, me. This place, these people, they're-they're _evil,_andwe_have_to stop them. How could anyone sit by and let that happen to other people? What they did to you was wrong, and what they're doing to those tThey don't deserve it, no one does, but especially not _them_."

She broke off for a moment.

"Bucky... what Grail was saying, about making you kill two people to save the third. If it comes down to it, and I'm there," she said.

_No_, he thought, knowing exactly where she was going with this. _Don't tell me to do this. Please, don't tell me to do this. Not this._

"You choose one of them. The world can manage without me-"

_But_ _I can't_, he thought numbly, unable to believe that she was even bringing this up.

"-hell, it might even be better off. But you have to try and get one of the other people out. If... if Steve's there, I think he'd agree with me. _Especially_ if they're a child. Bucky, I can't see a child die, especially because of me. That would kill me. I just... I just can't see that."

"Don't make me do that," he said. "Don't tell me to kill you. Cara, _that__would__kill me_."

She looked up at him. "They'll make it worse for you, if you don't do it," she said. "Bucky, if it gets to that point, I don't think I'm getting out. They'll do something worse to me."

"Cara," he said. "_I love you._I can't kill you."

She looked up at him sharply in surprise. He couldn't believe he just said it, and for a moment, he felt sick. It was true though, wasn't it? He just hadn't realized it until now that there was a chance that he might lose her forever. That she had to know.

"You what?"

"I love you. I can't kill you. I won't kill you."

She squeezed his hand tightly. "_Then please_. You _have_ to do this for me. I'd rather die by the hand of the man _I__love_ than have some stranger or-or Cassius do it. Please. It won't be your fault, you promised me you wouldn't blame yourself for anything that happens here. And that includes whatever they make you do to me."

"It doesn't matter. It won't happen. You'll be fine. We're getting out."

She gave a soft hum. He let go of hand, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She settled against his chest, staring vacantly at the floor. The temperature was dropping. He knew that was an intentional move on the part of Grail or whoever was in charge of them now. It would only get colder and they would get weaker. He pulled her closer, desperate for any warmth he could save. His fingers carded lightly through her hair, and he breathed out slowly.

"When we get out," she said suddenly. "What's the first thing you're gonna do?"

"Sleep for three days," he said. "And then go to one of those big, fancy restaurants, and order everything in sight."

"God, that's a great plan," she said, sighing. "There's a great place back in New York. We could stop there, and then leave the country. Go anywhere else."

"Somewhere quiet," he said. "We could buy a house in the middle of now where, and it'll have a big fireplace, and it'll be just you and me, and no one will ever find us."

She shifted up against him, tilting her head back, and kissing him gently. "What a dream that is," she murmured against his lips.

He ran his hands down her sides, before pulling her closer. He didn't think about how this might be the last time they were together.

"I love you," he said again, very quietly, but not as a way to try and convince her (or himself) of something. No, he said it only because he wanted her to know. Nothing else matter right now. Not that she lied. It didn't matter that he didn't know what forgiving her meant. It didn't matter here.

"I love you too," she whispered. "I love you too, Bucky."

**A/N: **can someone sue the universe for making me think i would have time to write and then snatching that hope away because that was rude. there are parts of this i really hate, and parts i really like so i was conflicted over posting it.

also the new cw trailer/footage has killed me, and so has the prelude comics. And not to mention that daredevil ss2 is very very soon and i'm freaking out. on that note, within the next few chapters is when i'm going to start tying it into the mcu a bit more (although at this point in the story it's still a good few years away from civil war), so expect some surprise characters.

But yeah. Thank you all for reading and hanging in there.


	45. St James Infirmary Blues Pt: 1

The road was long, and twisting, and very creepy, which Sam supposed was only natural, seeing as they were heading to one of HYDRA's favorite places for human experimentation, according to Natasha. She was in the backseat, phone up, the soft blue light illuminating her face. The radio hummed and crackled, but it was the only station that was getting any reception. One song ended, and Steve glanced down as the next started, a jarring piano, a distant expression passing over his face.

"Huh," he said, as the singer began to sing.

"What?" Sam said.

"St. James Infirmary," he said. "I remember everyone was making a version of this song, back when I was like twelve. Had no idea anyone still knew what it was. I used to dance to this. I mean, not me. I used to stand by the wall while everyone else danced."

""Sometimes I forget you're ancient," Sam said. "And a wallflower."

"He seems so _hip _and _cool_ most of the time, doesn't he," Natasha chimed in, leaning up between the seats. "He's the _hip_ and _cool _old man."

"I'm with it enough to know you don't say hip anymore," Steve said, his features, for the most part, serious.

"Oh," Sam snickered. "Us young whippersnappers?"

"Careful Sam," she said. "Soon he'll be telling us to get off his lawn."

"Shut up, both of you," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "And yes, get off my lawn."

"Sam started it," Natasha said. "He's a bad influence."

"I am not," Sam said, knocking his shoulder against hers, watching as her smile grew broader. It was rare to see Natasha smile earnestly. Usually any emotion was hidden behind a carefully constructed facade, and usually there was no small amount of cynicism and sadness in her gaze. It didn't last long though, as the road narrowed, and her eyes darted back down to her phone, taking in the map.

"We're almost there," she said.

"Do we know exactly what we're walking into?" Sam said. Steve was staring straight ahead. He didn't say anything.

"This base was, in theory, too small a target to go after with , which is why it's just us. At least, that's what they say." There was something about her tone that made Sam glance at her.

"You don't think that's right?"

"I think this seems too easy. We have intel that it's bigger, but I don't think that anyone's going to listen to us until it's too late. The people running the government task forces fighting against HYDRA know that what they're getting international attention. They want anything they dig up at first to be big and clean."

"And human experimentation is the opposite of clean.," Sam said.

"That makes me feel great," Steve muttered under his breathe.

"Especially if it's still going on," Natasha continued. "Pepper's trying her best to help, petitioning them to help us, and donating funds, but right now we just don't have enough people to send more than us."

"I get it," Steve said. "There are other bases, and other problems."

Natasha nodded. "Rhodey, Bruce and Tony are trying evacuating a city near a nuclear reactor in meltdown. Thor's off world, don't know when he'll be back. Clint's busy with this international crime syndicate... and his brother, but that's not important."

Sam was about to ask about that. Somehow he couldn't see Barton having a family, but Steve was already slowing down.

"Security cameras," he said. "They're going to know we're coming."

"Well," Natasha said, sliding a magazine into a handgun with a small smirk on her face. "Let's give a good show then."

* * *

_The thing about the cold, _Bucky thought as he sat shaking in the room. _Is that it kills you slowly, and you know it's happening, and all the while it starts messing with your brain._

Cara fallen into an uneasy asleep, cradled against him, shaking hard, breathing shallow. He could see her breath, and his, and that just made him hold her closer. He knew that he had been in far colder and survived, but it did nothing to help his mood. His shoulder was aching, where the muscles connected to the metal, a deep, pulsing pain. It made it worse.

He shuddered, violently. She jumped, looking up at him, eyes wide and alert.

"It's alright," he said quietly. "Sorry. It's alright. It's just cold."

She nodded slowly, giving a shaky laugh. "Yeah," she said, shifting closer to him. "How long will they keep this up?"

"Until we can't take it anymore."

"Great," she said, seeking out his hand to hold. "Wonderful. How long will that be?"

"Longer for me than you," he deadpanned, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Hey," she murmured, trailing her fingers down his neck. They were ice cold. "Don't say something like that."

"Sorry," he said. "Sorry."

She leaned back, looking at him, running her hand lightly over his cheek. "Don't apologize," she said. "I know... I know."

He looked down at his hands. "After this, I was going to leave you. I had decided it."

She froze, eyes darting up him.

"I'm not. I don't know if you know that," he said. "I want you to know that. What we have, we can make it work. We'll figure it out."

"Okay," she said simply. She smiled slightly.

He was about to add something else when a sound from the hall made both their heads snap up. He scrambled to his feet, holding Cara's scalpel in one hand, and her arm in the other, keeping her pushed behind him.

"Bucky," she whispered.

"If they're going to kill you, they'll have to kill me too," he said. "I won't let you go."

"Bucky, I'm not afraid."

"I know you are," he said. "You can't hide that from me. And I'm terrified. I won't lose you. So, stay behind me."

The door opened, and a good ten men walked in. He didn't recognize any of them. Each raised their gun as the glass panel slowly lifted walked in behind them. He felt Cara shift slightly behind him, stance becoming much more defensive.

"You're both coming with us," he said. "You know the drill. Either of you do anything, she get a bullet through the skull."

"Please," Bucky said, raising his hand. "No one has to get hurt. You don't have to do this."

"See, that's the thing," Cassius said. "I do. I have a loyalty to some very powerful. You should too, James. They saved your life. You owe them."

"I've given them decades, my memories, _everything_," he said, voice cracking slightly. "Isn't that enough?"

Cara's hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing gently.

"Look," Cassius said. "I don't issue the orders. But this is what the higher ups want."

"Please," Cara said. "Please, Mark. Let us go."

The man paused.

One of the guards shifted. "Agent, you have your orders."

Cassius's eyes glinted. "Shoot her in the leg," he said. Cara's grip tightened on his arm.

"No!" Bucky said quickly, taking a step forward. "No, we're coming. We coming."

Bucky's shut his eyes, thinking about the EMP in his arm, and how it was an extension of him. That's all it was. An extension.

The lights flickered, before there was a loud pop, with glass flying everywhere, plunging them into complete darkness. He let go of Cara, pushing her to the side as bullets began to fly and lunged forward, grabbing the nearest agent and wresting their gun (assault rifle, he could tell by the weight that it was missing three bullets). from them, using the sound of the other weapons to find other targets (it was difficult. The room was small and it echoed, but he remembered basically where everyone was, and he heard the sound of bodies falling to the ground. He tried not to think about hitting Cara).

The sound of gunfire slowly stopped, and he fell quiet as well, listening for any sign of life, and finding one, as Cara gave a sharp gasp to his side. He turned sharply towards her, trying to figure out exactly where she was. He couldn't call out to her, any sound would give away his position. He took a few steps forward, piecing together the shape of the room from memory. She should be right here. He reached forward. His metal fingers brushed over her back, and she tensed, spinning around and grabbing his wrist. She relaxed slightly as she realized it was him, sliding her hand into his.

It was quiet. No one was making any noise. He moved forward, remembering the layout of the room, and the position of everyone. His foot hit a motionless form. He ignored the twisting of his stomach, before he found the open door, pulling Cara sharply out, beginning to run. The halls were empty, and no alarms sounded. There were no signs of chaos, at least not in this part of the building. Red emergency lights flashed overhead ominously and silently overhead. He looked back at her. She was holding his hand still, shaking slightly, holding her arm, shirt soaked through with blood. He stopped, turning around, moving her hand.

"You're bleeding," he said quietly.

"It's not bad," she said. "It's not bad, it's okay. Just a graze. Most of the blood isn't mine. Someone tried to grab me, and they weren't you, and I turned their knife on them."

He nodded slowly. "And this... Stray bullet?" he said, pointing to the hole on her arm.

"Yeah," she said, nodding, resting her head against his chest. "Yeah."

"We need to get out," he said quietly, running his hand down her back.

She paused. "Bucky. We can't just leave."

"What?"

"The kids. We have to get the kids out."

"Cara," he said. "These people will kill you. You know that."

"Bucky, I think you forget about the fact that for the past ten years, my job was tricking people who wanted to kill me."

"I know that," he said. "I know it was your job... It's just... I don't know. Nevermind, I don't know."

"If we leave them here, we're no better than the people who locked them up," she said.

"You're right," he said heavily, breathing out slowly. "Of course you are." She smiled, leaning back.

"Come on, Barnes," she said, as she took his hand, and started pulling him down the hall. "Let's go be heroes."

"I'm not a hero because I won't let little kids get hurt," he said. "All that says about me is that I'm not a scum bag."

"Tell that to them," she said. "Take it from me. If someone gets you out of a situation like that, if they don't hurt you, and you're still a little sane, they're a hero to you."

Bucky didn't say anything. He had other things to do other than fight with her. It was quiet. He assumed that everyone in the room was dead, no one had followed them out. The halls empty. It felt like it felt like a maze, and they were just rats running through it.

It felt _wrong_.

His gut told him that something bad was going to happen, he could feel it in the unsteady beating of his heart, that this was leading up to something, that staying here was a mistake. But Cara was right.

She was right.

Cara slowed down, and he saw why almost immediately. There were several doors. On the wall were small blacked out screens.

"Like our chances?" she said.

"Good as any," he said, lifting up the weapon in case it was full of armed assailants they could easily avoid. She nodded, reaching for the handle, letting the door swing open as she stepped back, peering in. It was dark, like their room had been, although the dull light from the hall illuminated it. There was a small bed, and on the small bed was a little girl. She stared at them curiously, tilting her head to the side, one hand wrapped around the IV pole to her left.

Cara held up a hand, telling him to wait as she stepped into the room, kneeling in front of the girl. She simply looked at her.

"Hey sweetheart," Cara said gently.

"It went dark," the girl said, before Cara could say anything else.

"Yeah," Cara said. "That was me and my friend's fault. Sorry about that. What's your name?"

"Carmen."

"Hello, Carmen. I'm Cara. That's Bucky. Why don't we get you out of here?"

The girl didn't say anything, but looked a little lost, nodding as she stood up. Cara reached over to the IV on her arm. The girl flinched. Cara shook her head.

"No, no," she said. "I'm just going to take it out. I'm not going to hurt you. It's alright."

Pulling the IV out, she grabbed the girl's hand, and lead her back to Bucky.

"Do you know any of the others here?" Cara asked.

The girl looked thoughtful. "A few of them. There's the girl with no eyes, she's there," she said, pointing to the room across from them. "The little one who doesn't talk, he's there," she said turning to the next room. "The sisters, they're down the hall. I don't know the rest."

"Alright," Cara said. "Can you help me get them out?"

Carmen nodded. Bucky kept his distance as Cara carefully gather everyone, keeping an eye out for any guards. There were twelve kids in all, the youngest being about two, the oldest a set of five girls, almost completely identical, maybe ten. They were all quiet, with wide haunted eyes. They didn't ask questions, didn't seem suspicious. There was something else about them, something he couldn't put his finger on. They all acted like they knew something, and they weren't sharing it.

"Come on," Cara said, as they walked silently down the hall.

Bucky glanced at her, who seemed to have some idea of where she was going. He was about to ask her how when something knocked him painfully into the wall. The gun clattered to the ground, away from him, out of reach for the moment. He looked up, in time to Cassius's fist swinging towards his face. He was covered in blood, shirt riddled with bullet holes, but he didn't seem to be hurt. Bucky ducked, diving to the side, planting himself between the man and the huddled group behind him. Cara had taken a few forward, and he desperately pushed her back.

"Get them out!"

"Bucky-"

"Go, Cara, I'll handle this, _get them out!_"

"Come on," Cara murmured, quickly herding the small group away.

"You won't get them," Bucky said. "I won't let you near them."

The other man was silent as he stared back at him, almost completely emotionless. Like how Cara went sometimes. He wondered if they had picked it up from each other.

"I have orders," Cassius said flatly, walking forward. "You can't escape."

"I'm not trying to," Bucky said, arm coming up to block the blow aimed at his chest. The man hit hard. If the fact he was walking around with a shirt full of bullet holes didn't give away the fact that he wasn't normal, that did. The impact ran through his arm and chest, and he stumbled back, before recovering, delivering kick after kick, and hit after hit.

The other man was fast, there was no denying that, but Bucky was too. And he knew that he could not lose this fight. That might have given him an advantage, even a small one. Bucky _could not lose_.

"She's going to die," Cassius said suddenly. Bucky paused for less then a second, and it was enough for his legs to be swiped out from under him, and he came crashing to the ground. Cassius was over him, a knife in his hand, and that knife was coming towards his neck. He held up his arm, pushing back, desperately trying to get free.

"She loves you," he said, above him. "Cara loves you, she loves the Winter Soldier. I've known her for a long time, and she loves you. She's would die for you."

His knee dug into Bucky's chest, and he couldn't breathe, and knife got closer and closer.

The man almost smiled. It was a sad, feral smile. "And she's going to die."

And suddenly the weight gone.

He took in a shuddering breath, and turned to the side, as Cara slammed Cassius to the side, with an uppercut to his face.

"I'm not dying today, asshole," she said, as she tried to hit him again. He was ready for that one, and

Bucky could only watch as he blocked the next punch too, watching as he hit her hard in the stomach, and as she stumbled back, hands closing around her arm. He watched as she twisted free from him, elbow colliding with his face, hard enough his head snapped back and blood poured from his nose. He watched as Cassius's slashed the knife across her chest sharply, just as she pulled out of reach. It was not enough to kill her, and he watched as she barely flinched, as the blood began to soak through the gash in her shirt.

It barely slowed her down.

He watched, while he himself lunged for the gun behind him, as Cassius's gaze went to him, and how that broke Cara's concentration just enough for him to grab her wrist, yanking her towards him. She cried out, and he was already scrambling to his feet, pointing the gun at Cassius, but it was too late. The knife was at her throat, and Bucky was suddenly struck by how similar this all was to another day, a day where he stood in the rain, staring at a stranger.

She wasn't a stranger anymore.

"Drop it," Cassius said.

"Let her go," Bucky said.

"Drop it first," he said. "Don't test me, I'll slit her throat the moment you do anything. Drop it, and kick it over here."

"Don't do it, Bucky," Cara said. "Take him out."

"Shut up," Cassius snarled in her ear, slowly backing up, before his attention darted back to Bucky. "I will kill her. Don't risk that. Drop it, kick it over here, and let us leave. Once I'm gone, I'll let her go."

"He's lying," Cara said. "He's lying, Bucky, I'm dead anyways, please, please don't let him get away."

"Look at me, Soldier," Cassius said. Bucky glanced between them. "I will hurt her if you don't drop the gun."

"Don't do it, Bucky," Cara said.

Bucky didn't move. Cassius pressed the blade into her skin slightly, just enough to draw blood.

"_Fine_!" Bucky said quickly, taking his finger off the trigger, slowly raising his hands. "Fine." Slowly he put it down, keeping his hands raised. She shut her eyes.

"Kick it over here."

He did so, reluctantly. Cassius leaned down, and picked it up.

"Fox," Bucky said, but they were at the door, and he could do nothing but watch as she stared at him, begging him to do something, anything. The longer he just stood there, the more hopeless her expression became. She closed her eyes. "Cara. Please, let her go."

She looked sharply at him, and he saw that something had shifted in her gaze.

_Don't do something stupid, Fox,_ he thought, just as she did something very stupid.

Cara yanked down on his arm, twisting back and making the knife clatter to the ground. She kicked it, and pulled away, just as he swiped her legs out from her. She fell the ground, narrowly avoiding landing wrong on her already injured wrist. She rolled over, reaching for the knife at her side, before she was was on her feet, looking _furious_.

It was all moving so fast.

Bucky had barely moved towards the fight when it happened, as if in slow motion.

He heard the shot ring out, and froze for what felt like a lifetime, his blood running cold.

She looked up at him, stumbling back, knife clattering to the ground, hands covering the hole her stomach as blood began to pool around her fingers.

"Cara," he whispered hoarsely, and everything disappeared except for the sheer, wild disbelief and fear in her eyes as she crumpled to the ground.

"_Cara!_"

**A/N:** hahahah

ok it's been like a month, and i'm really sorry, but i'm in the homestretch of my senior year, so i kinda have to put importance on that (the next one will be up sooner I promise). I had all of this written in pieces of about 400 words but it took forever to get them connected, if that makes sense.

all the kids are mutants. they have a certain powers telepathic/clairvoyant (most definitely why hydra has them). and if you're wondering why they just trust cara and bucky even though they have zero reason to, the cuckoos probably read their minds and let everyone know it was ok. why didn't the mutant babies help fight cassius? because they're smol and tired and drama is fun.

The song is St. James Infirmary, and is an American folk song that was really popular for jazz in the 30 and 40's. The one I referenced is by the White Stripes, and is fantastic. Listen to the lyrics (for that one) and the title will make so much more sense.


	46. St James Infirmary Blues Pt: 2

Time stopped.

His heart stopped.

Everything just... stopped.

He said her name again, but he couldn't hear it come out of his mouth.

He felt it, pure instinct, pulling at the back of his mind, deleting everything else, and he couldn't quite piece together what happened between looking at Mark Cassius, seeing regret and horror passing over his face, gun falling from his hands, clattering to the floor, the sound echoing, and then picking it up himself, raising it slowly. Slowly.

He wasn't sure when he decided that he was going to pull the trigger, only remembered observing himself, as if in slow motion the bullet pass through Mark Cassius's eye, blood splattering on the wall behind him, hearing the dull thump of the body hitting the floor.

It was a blur as he looked at her, taking a step to her, and another, and another, and falling to his knees at her side, hands shaking as they hovered above her stomach, thoughts almost robotic as he took in the damage.

_Shot fired at close range, hit left side below the rib, above the hip, exit wound, blood, her blood, her blood everywhere, on her stomach, on the floor, on her hands, coming from her mouth, so much blood. So much blood._

They weren't robotic though, no, not completely. Though it all, something inside him was screaming, screaming that this wasn't real, that she was fine, screaming that it was a nightmare, a trick, screaming her name, over and over and over again.

_Cara, Cara, Cara, please, for the love of God, not this, not Cara._

Quickly taking off his jacket, the HYDRA issued body armor one, he lifted her up, and she cried out, and he flinched as he wrapped it around her, pressing it into the gaping wound on her back. The much worse the one on her stomach.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

She was crying, tears cutting tracks through the grime on her face.

"Bucky," she coughed out, blood splattering on her lips. "Bucky."

"Keep your hand here, as much pressure as you can," he said, pressing her palm hard on her stomach. She groaned, or sobbed, he wasn't sure which, throwing her head back. He took a moment, a precious moment, running his bloodstained hand through her hair, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "Hey, it's okay. I'm getting you help. Alright?" he leaned back, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. "Look at me, sweetheart. I'm getting you help."

He lifted her up, keeping one arm pressed on the exit wound on her back, cradling her against his chest as she cried out again. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, fingers digging desperately into the ridge between skin and metal, her other hand almost clawing at her stomach.

"I know," he said, as he rose to his feet, taking a few stumbling steps forward. "I know, I know it hurts. It's gonna hurt, but you'll be okay. Keep your hand on it. Don't move your hand."

"Bucky," she said again. "I'm sca- _scared_. I don't want to die. _I don't want to die_."

"You're not going to die," he said, sharper than he meant to. "Don't be scared. Alright? You don't need to be scared. We'll get out of this. You'll get out of this. You told me that, didn't you? Right? You told me we'd get out of this. That's what we're doing, we're getting out of this."

All of his senses were simultaneously overloaded, and dulled. He could feel her blood coating his skin, could feel it all, and he could feel the weight of her in his arms, feel her breathing heavily and unsteadily, feel the pain in his chest, but there was nothing as his feet hitting the ground heavily, nothing but a numbness in his hands and brain. He could hear her sobs (so quiet, like they were barely there), and hear his own thoughts, echoing, echoing, echoing her name.

_Cara, Cara, Cara. Why her? Why Cara? Please, let her be okay, I'll do anything for her to be okay. Cara._

Beyond that it was static and fuzz. He smelled copper, and tasted it on the tip of his tongue. All he could see was red. Red light flashing silently, red hair pressed against his neck, dirty and tangled, red blood spilling from beneath her fingers, blood that was on his hands too, blood that was soaking through his clothes.

He felt sick.

He glanced down at her, and saw that her eyes were unfocused, staring past him, or through him. Her hand was slipping on his shoulder, and off her stomach.

"Stay awake," he said, almost snapping, and she focused on him, but it was still dull and fading. "Don't move your hand."

"Don't let me go," she murmured.

"I won't. I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't. Just... Just stay awake."

"I can't," she said. "I'm tired, Bucky. I'm tired."

"You have to stay awake Cara, you have to, just until we can get out, okay? Stay with me."

_Stay with me, Cara. Please._

He could see the hall branch out in front of him, one part of his brain keeping track of the turns. It was a maze, and they were rats. They were both nothing, but lab rats.

He could feel the seconds ticking by, he could feel them adding up, and counting down, and if he didn't get out soon she would die here, in this godforsaken place.

They had to be getting close to the exit.

He froze suddenly, as voices echoed down the hall.

"Shit," he hissed, pulling behind the corner, pressing his back against the wall. He wasn't going to fight, he wasn't going to risk Cara losing anymore time. Her hand tightened slightly on his shoulder.

"-you sure they said 'abandoned'? I've been shot at more than I was at the other place."

"I said they wanted it clean," a familiar voice said. Natalia. "They never really said _abandoned_. They just didn't want to deal with it."

"Why do we always pull the short straw?" the first said.

"Because, Sam. We're wonderful friends."

That meant the other voice was probably the voice of Sam Wilson, the man he had kicked off the helicarriers.

There was a snort. "Yeah," Sam said. "I better get a fantastic birthday present from Captain Reckless Endangerment this this year. Over a hundred dollars. With a handmade card."

"I know what he's getting you," Natasha said, and he could hear the smirk in her voice. "He's going to get you track shoes with a note that says 'for when you finally learn how to run'."

"_Jerk_," the first muttered. "I came in first in my unit, did you know that? I could be an Olympic runner."

"I do, and I am on your side. He is a jerk, and next time you run together, I'll shoot him with a hunting-grade tranquilizer."

"Thank you, and I love you, you terrifying, terrifying woman," Sam said. "Hope he's having a better time than us,"

"Poor man has so much pent up rage, I think he needs something like this."

They were getting closer. Any moment now they would round the corner, and see them, or one of them would hear Cara. He had to make a decision. Run now, or ask for help. He looked down at Cara, who was shaking. She didn't have time for him to run away. She needed help. And they would have better medical equipment, better protection. They had connections.

_I trust her,_ she had said._ She saved my life. _

He made his decision, stepping out from behind the corner. There were two of them as he thought, both lifting up their guns, and freezing. Natalia... Natasha, she was Natasha now, she had changed, stared at him in shock, gaze dropping down to the bleeding woman in his arms. The man with her blinked in disbelief, like he was looking at a ghost.

"Natasha," he said, stepping forward. Her eyes widened. Sam glanced at her, but made no move. "You have to help her. Get her away from here. She's dying. Please."

Natasha's mouth parted slightly, as she stared at Cara. "What happened?" she said finally.

Bucky took another step forward. "She was trying to save me. Please, she's dying," he said. "You have to save her. I can't lose her."

Natasha was already nodding, and glanced at Sam, who nodded. "Okay, James."

He put her down in the ground gently. Natasha and Sam both rushed down to them. Sam had already put aside his gun, taking out his phone, calling someone.

Bucky stared down at Cara, his hand still pressed onto her back, fingertips running down her face. As he moved her hair back away from her neck, he felt her pulse, erratic and weak.

"Shot in the stomach, close range, exit wound," Bucky said, repeating the list he had thought to himself, glancing up at Natasha. "One gash on the chest. Shot on the arm, but that isn't that bad."

Whoever Sam had called answered, and he leaned back, looking to the side.

"Steve. We're cutting the mission short, get down here. There's an injured civilian, Cara from the train," he said. He glanced at Bucky, and he could tell that he wanted to say something else. Wanted to tell Steve that he down here too. Natasha shook her head, touching his arm.

"Tell him to contact Tony, and have him get down here with a quinjet," she whispered. "We'll bring her up."

Sam repeated this into the phone. Bucky stared down at Cara, pushing back her hair.

"You hear that?" he murmured. "Your rich, fancy friends are coming to help us."

She gave a strangled laugh that didn't sound real at all. "I think you should probably know I don't have any friends... No one can put up with me long enough-" she broke off, coughing and gasping, closing her eyes.

"Yeah, well, friends or not," he said. "You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

"James, if you come with us, they'll arrest you," Natasha said carefully. He froze, looking up at her. "You're wanted by half the governments on the planet, and they won't forgive you. They won't listen, they need a face for HYDRA's crimes, and they will use you."

He looked down at Cara. "I can't leave her."

"You can't help her if you're rotting in some jail cell," she said.

"I- I _can't_," he said. "No. I won't leave."

"You know what they think-"

"I don't care about that!"

"Bucky," Cara said suddenly, voice cracking. "You can't stay with me. They'll kill you, o-or worse."

"Not if they don't catch me. I won't leave you."

"What about the kids?" she said. "You have to get the kids out. Make sure they're safe. They don't deserve this."

He stared down at her, nodding slowly. She was right. Natasha's hand replaced his on her back.

"Alright," he said, gently pushing back her hair. Her skin was ice cold, and pale, like bone. He kissed the back of her hand, entwining their fingers. "Don't try and fight anyone while I'm gone-" she gave a short, strangled laugh, and he smiled back. "-okay? Let these two do that. Take a vacation. You'll be okay. I'll see you soon. I lo... you know. You know."

"I know," she said, nodding, gasping, smiling slightly, swallowing back another sob. "R-right back at you, Barnes."

"I'll see you soon," he said. "Alright, alright? After this, you'll be fine, and I'll find you, I'll always find you, we'll be together soon. I promise."

Her hand was falling from his, her fingers still stretched towards him.

"Save her," he said, as he backed up, trying not to look down. "I don't care what you have to do, just save her."

And then he was gone.

He knew what this meant. He was well aware of what he was doing. He heard another word being said inside his brain now, hushed and dull and in his own voice, among the silent echoes of her name, among the silent pleas that she had to be okay, he heard it.

_Coward, _he thought, as he ran away. _Coward. _

**A/N:** *ends last chapter with a cliff hanger* *doesn't resolve it in the next very short chapter because i am a deeply flawed human being*

this entire author's note is just some fyi stuff, so here it is.

let me do a really simple run down of what's going on medically with cara here (simple for my own sake because medicine is hard, but it's fun stuff.) it soothes me to write this all out

ok so when you get shot, there's usually two wounds, the entry wound and the exit wound. on tv they're always like "oh let's fucking did this bullet out of my fucking stomach with a pair of fucking tweezers" but no that's not how it works, and that's also how you die. it's a good and medically accurate thing that the bullet went straight through cara, they usually do (usually said loosely because all cases are different). (and sidenote if they g_et stuck inside you dON'T TAKE THEM OUT YOUR SELF IF YOU WEREN'T BLEEDING TO DEATH BEFORE YOU WILL BE WHEN Y__**OU DIG AROUND AND CUT. UP YOUR. INSIDES.**_ doctors are there for reasons)  
even though exit wounds are usually much more severe than entry ones, having the bullet be still inside her abdomen would Very Bad™ (bullets are made to tear things up, and the abdomen is full of very important things like the intestines and bladder and stomach and kidneys and liver, all of which should not be torn up, and if you leave a bullet in there, it will be Very Bad™).  
while it's important to stop external bleeding, she is still bleeding internally which is Very Bad™, and she can still die of blood loss. what she's going into right now is called hypovolemic (or hemorrhagic) shock, which is when your organs shuts down because of there's not enough blood reaching them. needless to say that this is Very Bad™. symptoms are what you'd expect, paleness, coldness/shaking, rapid breathing, erratic pulse, anxiety, and confusion, which we'll be seeing soon.

this entire chapter happens in probably less than ten minutes tops, but Bucky is being a tad bit of what we call an unreliable narrator when it comes to pacing, seeing as some he cares about is literally dying in his arms. the reason this is all so jumpy (and by "all" i mean the entire book, but in particular, this chapter) is because i'm writing using free indirect discourse, which is when the narrator relays all the thoughts and internal dialogue of a character as if the narrator _was _the character, even though it's written in third. pretty snazzy, and also my favorite way to write.

you'll notice words were being repeated throughout this, like "blood" "dull" "echoing" etc, and that was all intentional, because poor bucky's having a bit a of a breakdown here.

honestly this chapter was probably the most fun to write, all things considered... even if i am an emotional wreck right now.

thank you all for putting up with this, hope to have part 3 and an actual conclusion out soon, but let's see how bad the last two weeks of high school treats me.


	47. St James Infirmary Blues Pt: 3

**A/N:**_ Italics are past, _normal is present.

_At first, it hadn't felt real._

The world spun above her. She saw Bucky walk away, trying not look at her. Natasha and Sam's face danced into view, and she was vaguely aware of Sam murmuring something, and Natasha shaking her head.

_There was no pain, at least for the first few seconds. It was empty, as the force made her stumble backwards. She looked at Bucky and he said her name, kept saying her name._

The world moved, and she was being carried, and it just made the pain worse, and her head spin, and she felt herself crying, and she hated that, but she couldn't stop.

_The world swayed and the ground came rushing towards her, and the moment she hit was the moment everything hit her. She had been shot. Cassius had shot her. It hurt. Oh god, it hurt._

"Nat," she sobbed. "Nat, I screwed up."

"Yeah, you did, you did," Natasha said. "But you've screwed up before, and you always make it to screw up again. That's your thing, right?"

"Yeah," she said, and she was laughing now, or it felt like she was laughing. Her chest ached, and her stomach hurt even more. "I screw up everything. I always screw up everything."

_She lifted her hand, and saw blood on her fingers, and she could feel it on the ground behind her. She was vaguely aware of another shot, and then there was Bucky, kneeling, hands trembling as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding. His face was an open book. This wasn't good._

There was Steve. He stared at her, looking vaguely confused, putting his SHIELD on his back, as he ran over. There were bodies of fallen HYDRA agents around him.

"What happened?" he said.

"She had the same idea we did," Natasha said. "She was just unlucky."

He nodded. "I'll get the car," he said. "Helicarrier will meet us in a few miles from here. Stark's arranged for her to be taken to the hospital in New York. There's a doctor who was working with Banner. She might be able to help."

_She was freezing._

_Her fingers were numb._

_Was this what had Bucky felt, when they froze him?_

They were walking up stairs. The lights flickered above her, but she wasn't sure if it was her eyesight going, or the building coming apart at the seams.

_She was going to die. She knew she was going to die._

Her hand was sliding off her stomach.

"_Stay awake," he was hissing. She couldn't. She was tired. She was so tired._

_But she didn't want to die._

She jumped slightly, pressed her hand back onto it, fingers already slick with blood, as she was placed in the back seat of a car, head in Natasha's lap, Sam kneeling at her side, first aid kit open, desperately running what damage control he could.

"_Stay with me," Bucky said._

She blinked.

Where was he?

"Bucky," Cara murmured. Steve froze as he climbed into the driver's seat. "Where's Bucky?"

"What did she say?" he said, hands tightening on the steering wheel,.

"He's not here, Cara," Natasha said gently. "He's saving those kids. Remember?"

_Everything was spinning. She heard Natasha (Natasha? Why was Natasha here?) talking to someone, but she couldn't bring herself to focus on their words._

Cara shut her eyes. Natasha was talking to her. But where was Bucky? Why wasn't he here? He had just been here.

"_Stay with me."_

"Bucky," she repeated, desperately. "I want Bucky."

"Hush, Cara," Natasha said, lightly running her fingers through her hair.

"How does she know him?" Steve said.

"_Stay with me."_

"Steve," Sam said, as gently pried Cara's hand off her stomach, pressing down with gauze. "Not the time. Start the car. Drive. We'll tell you when we can."

Steve did so quickly. She saw his face in the rear view mirror, glancing back at her occasionally.

"_Until all attachments are eliminated," Grail was saying, as Cara burying her face in Bucky's chest._

_She was dying, she was being eliminated. This was the plan._

_Where was Bucky?_

_What were they doing to Bucky?_

Cara tried to sit up, eyes wild, as Sam tried to keep the bandage on her.

"Where is he?" she said. "They'll hurt him. This is their plan. I need to save him. I need to save him! _I promised I'd protect him!_"

"You did save him, that's what he said, that's what he told us," Natasha murmured. "He'll be alright, he knows what he's doing. He'll be fine."

"I promise him… I promised."

_She was dying._

"_You'll be okay. I'll see you soon. I lo... you know. You know."_

_She knew._

She knew.

The car was slowing down. She shut her eyes, and the door was opening, and she was being pulled out, and she cried out as her back hit a hard surface, and the world was moving, and there were voices, and she opened her eyes, and the world blurred, and she saw shadowing figures standing over her, as everything slowly fading to black as she caught sight of the ceiling of a helicarrier. Sh shut her eyes again, and everything fell away, as she gave into the dizzying feeling of blood spilling from her fingers.

* * *

Sam Wilson was a soldier. He was a pararescueman. He had seen people bleeding to death. He had saved a few of them, lost others. He had seen gunshot wounds, watch his friends and strangers and enemies die from them. He had seen people crying out for people that brought them comfort as their eyes dulled, and their hearts slowed.

It never got easier.

He had knelt by Cara's side in the car, remembering how he used to do this, how he had learned basic first aid, how he had used it on others like her. He could do this, he could save her. He hadn't known her very well at all, but Nat had known her before, they were friends, and that was more than enough to make him desperately hope this wouldn't go south. No, he wouldn't let it go south. He wasn't going to let her die.

She had been asking for Barnes, lost in a delirious mess. Any lucidness she had when she told him to go was gone. Her skin burned, her hands shook, her eyes were wide and unfocused and filled with tears. She didn't even seem to see him, she didn't seem to see any of them. He remembered the kids in his unit, usually barely in their twenties, asking for their moms or girlfriends or crying out for people they would never see again. He remembered rescuing a man, on his last tour, asking for his wife, no, begging for his wife. He was a lucky one. He lived, he saw her again... couldn't walk after that, but he lived.

No, this never got easier.

It was Clint Barton who picked them up in the quinjet. Sam had met him once, when they were following a possible lead while searching for Barnes (it had lead to a literal nightmare, and near death experiences for everyone. Sam was trying not to be bitter about that.) He had looked down at Cara as she was was placed on the gurney, and looked up at Natasha, eyes wide.

"What the hell is she doing here?" he hissed, as they began to roll it in.

"She was being Cara," Natasha said.

"Dammit," he muttered, looking down at her, pushing back her hair. "Hey, kid, look at you. Always getting in trouble."

She didn't seem to hear.

The flight to the hospital was quick, maybe five minutes at the most, and Sam had sat next to her the entire time, watching the hastily assembled med team try and keep her alive. Steve was with him too. Natasha was up with Clint, talking quietly. He was nodding slowly and seriously.

"I know you want to ask it," Sam said.

Steve shook his head. "She was asking for Bucky. Is there another one we don't know about?"

"With our luck, Steve, yes, probably."

"How does she know him?"

"Don't know. Me and Nat were on the lower levels, and all of a sudden, he came out of the shadows, with a bleeding woman I last saw on a train, basically begging us to save her. I don't know anything else."

"Why was he there?" Steve said, frowning.

"Look, man," Sam said. "Nat probably knows more than me, she always does. Ask her when we get to the hospital."

"Did he look like he was... the Winter Soldier, or Bucky?"

Sam smirked slightly, and shook his head. "Wasn't trying to kill me, if that makes you feel better."

"Surprisingly, that does, Sam," Steve said with a grin (it was almost forced, but Sam saw the glint of amusement in his eye). "Thanks."

He didn't say anything else, as the jet slowly descended, and landed on the roof. The doctor Stark had sent was already there, standing on the roof, arms folded against her chest. She looked at the four of them as as they followed Cara out, quickly walking next to the rattling, rolling bed.

"You're Dr. Helen Cho?" Natasha said carefully. She wasn't going to take any chances. The woman nodded.

"Tony Stark said I might be able to help," she said. "You told him she was shot?"

Sam nodded. "Gash on the chest too. Can you fix her?"

"I can try," she said. "I have been working on something new that might be able to heal her, but it hasn't been tested on human subjects before."

"If you don't use it, what are her chances?"

She looked down at her for a moment. "They are higher with it," she said. "But that is not saying much."

Sam glanced at Steve, who nodded. "Do what you have to do," Steve said. She nodded again, and her and the team walked off quickly through a set of double doors, as she told them exactly what to do to prepare. Sam glanced over at Natasha, who crossed her arms, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Clint sighed, almost collapsing in a plastic chair at the side, rubbing his forehead.

"Thought this would happen less now SHIELD's gone," he said. "The waiting. This is the hardest part. When you're out here, and your friend's in there, and you don't know if they're gonna live. This is the worst part."

"Yeah," Sam said, sitting down next to him. Steve did the same. That was true. It was the worst. "Yeah, it is."

"What was she doing there, Natasha?" Steve said. "And how does she know Bucky?"

Natasha sighed, and followed their lead, finding the seat by Sam. "She... She's known him since SHIELD went down. What was that, two months ago? They're... together. They haven't been long, though."

Sam glanced back toward the door of the operating room, remembering the picture they had found in the HYDRA base a few weeks ago. "I guess we found our mystery redhead."

"Guess so," Steve said. He looked up from his hands to Natasha. "How long have you known about them?" She held his gaze steadily.

"Since the train," she said.

"Why didn't you tell us?" he said. "We were going there looking for him. If... If we had known, we would have found him, and this wouldn't have happened to her, she would be okay-"

"They asked me not to," she said, cutting him off. Sam caught the way her eyes flashed with guilt. She had thought about that too. "Steve, this isn't just about you. Barnes needs to come to terms with this on his own. He has seventy years of hell to sort through"

Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah… yeah, I know," he said. "I'm just… I'm just tired."

"I know. Me too. It's been a hard few weeks."

"You said they were together…" Sam said. "And she had a wedding ring on..."

"Not yet," Natasha said, flashing a small smile at him. "But she likes him, a lot. When I found them the first time, they were in a closet… how did your generation say 'making out', Steve?"

"Oh, shut up," he said, but he was smiling too.

"He cares about her too, Steve," Natasha said. "I saw it. If… if she doesn't pull through… I don't know what that'll do to him."

She broke off as a nurse walked up to them, bag slung over her shoulder. Her scrubs were covered in dried blood, and she looked exhausted. Probably coming to the end of a long shift.

"That woman they brought by," she said. "What happened to her?"

Sam stood up, and he saw Steve do the same thing almost at the same time. Natasha was slower to rise, giving her the cool look Sam knew was for strangers she didn't trust. Clint didn't even bother to look up, still rubbing his forehead with hand, fingers tapping anxiously on the armrest of the chair.

"There was an accident," Steve said. "She got shot."

She gave a small sigh. "Shit," she murmured.

"You know her?"

The woman nodded. "Yeah. Helped her friend once. She seemed nice."

"Her friend," Sam said. "Big guy, little unstable, metal arm?"

She blinked. "Yeah. Yeah, actually. That about sums him up," she said. "Had a nasty infection in his brain. She was taking care of him last time I checked."

Sam glanced over to Steve, and then to Natasha.

"When's your next shift?" Natasha said.

"Um, two days, I think?" she said. "Pulling a few extra shifts."

"You mind keeping an eye on her, when she gets out?" Natasha said.

She said _when_, Sam noticed. Not _if_.

The woman sighed again (or maybe it was just a tired laugh), glancing away, raising her arms slightly. "I work where I'm assigned."

"We'll ask," Natasha said. "She'll need a familiar face. Trust me."

"Fine," she said. "Fine, if you can convince them she's worth it."

"We can be very convincing," Natasha said, with a tightlipped smile. The woman began to walk off, repositioning the bag on her shoulder.

"I'm Claire, but the way," she said, turning around, with a small smile. "Claire Temple."

"Natasha," she said. "And this is Sam, Steve, Clint."

"I figured," Claire said. "I do watch the news, you know. I think I could recognize Captain America."

Steve looked down, shaking his head, smiling slightly.

"Your friend in there?" Claire said. "She'll be fine. It'll be okay."

"Yeah," Natasha said, as Claire disappeared behind the doors. "Yeah, she'll be fine."

Clint stood up suddenly, running a hand through his hair, and began to pace. "I take it we're going to be here for a while?"

"Yeah," Steve said.

"Well, I'm going to go find some coffee," he said, and stalked off.

"He okay?" Sam said, sitting back down.

"We've been in this situation before," Natasha said. "I mean, different people, different reasons, but you know. Occupational hazard, I guess. He thought it was over when SHIELD went down."

"You didn't?" Steve said.

She gave a small, dry laugh, glancing at the wall, a dark smirk playing on her lips. "I'm not as optimistic as him."

"You guys knew Cara before?" Sam said.

"Yeah," she said. "I helped train her for a month or two, a few months after I was brought in and was still being babysitted. She wasn't scared of me though. She wasn't scared of anyone. I guess that's why I liked her." Nat tilted her head, and looked back towards the door. "Her team worked with... the more unusual cases, and sometimes needed back up from mine and Clint's. She's my friend."

Neither him or Steve said anything for a few moments. Sam looked down at his hands. He didn't know Cara. He might never know her. He hated this feeling, the waiting, the helplessness. He never got used to it.

"She'll be alright, Nat," Steve murmured finally, putting his hand on her shoulder. Sam nudged her arm, and she looked up at him, as he shot her a grin. She returned it slowly.

She were spared from having to reply by the arrival of Clint, who was carrying four cups of coffee, two in his hands, and the other two balanced precariously on top. Sam grabbed one

"Alright, so I tried it, and it tastes bad," he said. "Really bad. Like hospital mixed with paint. But it has caffeine, and that's all that really matters."

"Amen to that," Sam said, as he took a drink. Clint was right. It was by far some of the worst coffee he had ever had, and that included MRE ration coffee, and Steve's when he couldn't figure out how to work the coffee maker in one of the hotels (it broke, and it was hilarious). But caffeine was caffeine. Natasha made a face, and Steve just stared at it mournfully.

"Alright, kids," Clint said. "Settle in. It's gonna be a thrilling few hours."

* * *

It was exactly two hours, forty three minutes after that, when Dr. Cho walked out, looking exhausted, hands still stained with blood.

Time felt like it had been running slow.

Clint was lying on the floor, giving up on the hard chair, dozing. Natasha was staring down at her phone, and from the few glances Sam got, it looked like she was hacking into something. He wouldn't be surprised. Steve was watching the television on the wall, in front of them, which changed between a lighthearted sitcom (there were a few references Sam still had to explain), a dark thriller (Sam couldn't remember what it was called. One of those cliche spy movies about a guy J and B in his name probably), and a news program.

Several times he had to get up and pace for what felt like hours, but when he looked down at his watch, barely thirty seconds would have passed. He tried to focus on the television, but it would talk about the fall of SHIELD and show footage of the Triskelion crumbling into the ocean, or the spy in the movie would shoot, and someone fall to the ground. TV was a horrible distraction, why would anyone put that in here?

She walked up, and they all stood up, Clint having to scramble, which was hilarious, and in any other situation, he probably would have laughed his ass off. Sam held his breath. He could feel Steve tense beside him, and he saw that Natasha had her poker face on.

If time had been running slow before, now it stopped completely, and it was like the world froze.

Dr. Cho smiled.

"It looks like, if everything goes well, and I think it will..." she said. "Cara Fox is going live."

**A/N:** GUESS WHO SAW CW 3 TIMES IN 3 DAYS AND DIED MANY MANY TIMES AND LOVES SAM AND WANDA AND RHODEY AND T'CHALLA AND NAT AND SCOTT SO MUCH AND ADOPTED A SMOL SPIDER CHILD AND IS PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE THAT IT WORKED WITH WHAT SHE WAS PLANNING ANYWAYS AND THIS FIC WILL STILL BE FOLLOWING CANON AND SHE CAN NOW COME OFF HER UNOFFICIAL WATTPAD BREAK BC FINALS ARE DONE AND SHE NO LONGER FEARS SPOILERS

anyways sam's history as a pararescueman is one of the 3 things i value in my life ok

helen cho's cradle is still being developed, it's not were it was in aou so cara will have much more recovery time than clint, but bright side she's not dead

cara's narrative was a mess because like i said last author's note, one of the symptoms of internal bleeding is delirium (i can't write that word without crying anymore thanks comic books) and anxiety, and i tried to reflect that

you didn't think i would have a hospital scene without my wife claire temple did you

i'm going to be going back an editing the chapters to fit in with civil war/just make it a little better, i'll try to keep you guys informed if any major changes are made

thanks for being patient for this, i'm done with high school, and now it's on to summer yay


	48. St James Infirmary Blues Pt: 4

Bucky was still shaking when he stumbled across the huddled group. They weren't far from where Cara had been shot. He covered in blood, clothes sticking to him, and he was sure he looked worse than just that. They stared at him, shuffling closer together.

"We need to go," he said, and his voice was hoarse.

"She said to wait for her."

"She's not coming," he said. "She's not coming, but she told me told to get you out. Come on. Move. Hurry."

One of the smallest ones, he had to be three at most, walked up to him, and reached for his metal hand. Bucky pulled back sharply, in surprise, before taking a deep breath, and kneeling down.

"I don't know if you want to do that, kid," he said. It was still covered in blood, and he didn't want to accidentally hurt him. The boy was so small. If there was a fight, Bucky wasn't sure he could fully control the movement in that arm if he had to fight. He had seen it crush skulls, and crack concrete, and tear the doors off cars.

"Up," the boy said, reaching for him stubbornly.

Bucky shook his head, but even as he did the kid jumped, grabbing his hand.

"Franklin wants to you carry him," one of the five identical blond girls said.

"_Up_," the kid, Franklin, said again.

Bucky sighed, and leaned down. "Fine," he said, picking him up. Franklin wrapped his arms around his neck, leaning his head on his shoulder. Bucky looked back at the rest of them, waving them over. "Let's go. Move."

They trailed after him, as he began to walk, holding the gun up.

"Why do they have you here?" he said.

It was the girl who Cara had first let out, Carmen, who answered. "They said we're special."

"We _are_ special," the girl who had told him Franklin's name answered. Her sisters nodded.

"We shouldn't be here," one of the other ones said. "We're not supposed to be here."

"Shush, Esme," the first said.

"They're the Five-In-One, yes," the girl with the blindfold said.

"_Ruth_," the first girl said. "_Shush._"

"You're holding Franklin Richards," she continued. "His parents are superheroes, thank you."

Bucky looked down at the boy, who smiled up at him. "Huh."

They turned the corner, into a hallway, with tables lining the walls. Stacked on each were piles of weapons. Guns, knives, and... ha. Bucky grinned darkly the moment he saw it, leaning down and picking up it up. The grenade launcher. Take that HYDRA.

"This is mine," he said. He handed it to a tiny redhead girl. Her eyes were wide. "Be careful with it...?" He trailed off.

"Hope," she said, staring down at the weapon .

"Hope," he said. "Don't blow anything up."

"Okay," she said, nodding seriously.

Bucky froze, hearing footsteps behind them.

"Soldier!" a voice said. He spun around. Grail stared at him, smiling slightly.

Bucky felt like he was going to be sick. The kids all shifted closer to him, clinging to each other. Franklin hid his face in Bucky's shoulder.

"You'll let us go," Bucky said, pointing the gun at his chest. It wasn't a question. "You will let us get out."

"Yes," Grail said. "I will. I can always find them again. And you... you will never be able to really escape us. We're in your head. We always will be."

"I told you I would kill you if anything happened to her," he said, and his voice cracked. "I said I would kill you if she got hurt. She's dying."

"So she is," he said. "And yet, I'm still alive."

"Not for long," Bucky said.

"I know you won't kill me," he said. "Just like we knew you would come here."

"What?" Bucky said, heart stopping.

"We knew you would come here. We knew you would be captured. We knew that she would die there. They told us." Grail's eyes darted to the kids. "They told us about you. They influenced you. They read the future and push the pieces... No, no. It's more than that. They _are_ the future, Soldier. They can prevent our enemies from ever making a move, before you have to step in. You are a weapon from another age."

Bucky didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger.

"Yeah," he said, watching the man fall to the ground, hand on his stomach, eyes wide with shock. "Still can shoot pretty well, though. For a weapon from another age, at least."

He knew exactly why he hadn't killed the man immediately. He could have, if he wanted to. One shot through the head. But instead he had chosen to shoot him exactly how Cara had been. He was going to suffer exactly like her. And there was some dark corner of his heart was deeply happy about that.

"Don't look at him," he told the kids quietly, as he lead them past the coughing, shuddering form on the ground.

The ground slowly slanted up, and Bucky felt a slight shift in the air. They were getting closer to the way out. It didn't take long to find a pile of bodies, all wearing HYDRA uniforms, unconscious and groaning. The emergency lights flickered overhead, looking cracked. The walls were riddled with bullet holes. The door leading out was slightly ajar. He walked up the stairs, hearing the unsteady footsteps of the kids behind him, and he remembered walking down these steps with Cara.

Looking down, he saw a trail of blood leading up the steps. It hadn't been there before.

He shuddered.

When he reached the top, the door was hanging open on it's hinges, letting light stream in. It was bright out, sometime in the midmorning. He blinked, in the light, breathing in the outdoor air. He hadn't been this happy to be outside since back one of his first assignments. (He couldn't remember the details of it, only the sheer relief of being _nearly_ free.)

Any happiness, however, evaporated quickly when he heard a rumble in the sky. He looked up around, freezing again, watching as a large jet slowly descended from the sky. It landed in front of them. The door opened and three people walked out. Bucky raised the gun. One was a man in a wheelchair, bald, looking calm, the other two flanking him. (It was a woman, with bright white hair, who's gaze soften slightly when it landed on the group of kids beside him. The other was a man with red glasses and what looked like a perpetually angry expression. He just crossed his arms, giving Bucky a distrusting look.)

"Hello, James," the man in the wheelchair said. "Thank you for getting them out."

"Who the hell are you?" Bucky said. "And how did you know my name?"

"My name is Charles Xavier, I'm a professor at a school," he said. "And I know your name, because like those children, I have a gift."

"Sounds a bit like what they were saying," he said, glancing back at the door.

"We're not them," Xavier said.

"Yeah," Bucky said. He took a step back, keeping the gun up, and holding onto Franklin tighter. "Sorry if I don't take your word on that."

"Professor," the guy in the red glasses said quietly. "Jean says Stryker's force are five minutes out. We need to move them, now."

Xavier nodded, and his finger twitched slightly. Just like that, Bucky knew that the man was telling the truth. He didn't quite know how, but it was like all of a sudden, his thoughts were all nudged into the right place. He took another step back in surprise.

Someone grabbed his arm. "They're telling the truth," one of the sisters said.

"What?" Bucky said.

"They have a school," she said. "We'll be safe there."

"How do you know that?"

"Like we said," she said, with a faint, almost wicked grin. "We're special."

"We'll be alright," Ruth said. "Promise."

Bucky sighed, and looked back at the three adults. "Any of them get hurt," he said. "I'll kill you."

The younger man snorted. "Sure thing, pal," he said. "You do that."

The woman shot him a look. "Please don't do this now," she hissed.

The man shrugged, not bothering to look apologetic. He walked over, pausing a moment before addressing the kids. "I'm Scott. That's Ororo, she'll help you get to the Blackbird."

They moved towards him, as Bucky gently put Franklin down.

"Tell your superhero parents hi for me," he said. "And keep the other kids in line, won't you?"

The kid stared at him, and blinked, reaching out, and touching Bucky's forehead.

_A cake sat in front of him, ten candles on it, put together with love and care. His mother had saved for months to give him a good birthday. He smiled up at her, and she kissed the top of his head._

_He was crouching on the roof staring down at the street below. Steve was crouching next to him, still a head shorter, but twice as angry, always willing to fight. He was drawing up battle plans to take out three of the biggest, meanest bullies in the neighborhood. Bucky grinned, as their victims passed underneath. He took out his slingshot, pulling it back, and letting the chewed gum fly._

_He was looking at the uniform in front of him, laid out neatly across the bed. The stiff, green fabric contrasted sharply against the worn quilt, patched so many times, he couldn't remember what it looked like originally. It was the night before he was supposed to ship out. This wasn't like the other memories. It was grimmer, sadder. But it was his. And he had it back._

Bucky gasped, opening his eyes. There were other memories. Ones he didn't even know he had lost. It wasn't all of them, by any means, but it was more than he had before. They were _his_ again.

"Thank you," he whispered. Franklin nodded, and followed the other kids. Hope stood near him, thin arms wrapped around the grenade launcher. When he looked up, handed it to him, stumbling slightly.

"I didn't blow anything up," she whispered, and paused.

"Good," he said. "Thanks."

She smiled, and took off passed Scott, red hair flying. Scott glanced back at him, before helping Ororo herd them into the jet.

Professor Xavier stared at him, like he was reading his mind and analyzing what he saw. Bucky flinched.

"Be careful with your thoughts, James. Franklin thought he was helping, but he is a child. More was uncovered then happy memories."

Bucky stood up, swinging the launcher up onto his shoulder. "How do you-"

"Be careful," he repeated, turning away, and rolling into the jet. "And Cara Fox was taken to Metro-General Hospital in New York City, if you're interested."

Bucky watched as the doors to the jet closed, and the plane lifted off, and suddenly, as he stood there, alone, it all came crashing back down on him. He had been taken by HYDRA. He had escaped. He had almost lost Cara. He had rescued them. The kids were safe. And Cara was at the hospital. Looking down at hands, he saw her blood drying on his skin, bright and red. Almost desperately, he began to wipe it off on his shirt. It didn't work. Maybe it even made it worse. The thin fabric was soaked though with it too. Shuddering, he began to walk quickly down the path, to the place where they had left their things.

He was leaving the facility behind him, and he was leaving it alone.

* * *

It was nearly sundown when Bucky reached the city.

He had stopped by the cabin where they had left their things, cleaning himself up, changing out of his blood soaked clothes. The majority of his and Cara's things stashed in the back. There was a good chance that he would come later (if only to make sure the base had shut down for good). After that, he managed to jump a train headed for New York, and once there, finding a cab was easy enough.

That's when things got... more difficult, to say the least.

Leaning against the wall across the street at the hospital, arms crossed, he watched for anything that might spell trouble_. _He counted two nondescript vans, possibly enemies, possibly a protection detail. Neither was good news for him. If they were CIA or NSA, he knew that they were probably here to catch him. (There was the possibility they might simply have an interest in her safety. She was an ex-SHIELD agent no doubt holding valuable information, after all. But he knew how these governments worked. To them, she was bait, and they were going to lure as many bad guys out as they could.)

There was an agent sitting outside on a bench, looking down at her phone. She was good. He almost missed her, but she was obviously watching everything through her phone. There would be no going in through the main entrance. He looked up. There was another building beside the hospital. With a short jump from that one to Cara's floor, he could get in through a window.

Turning around, he walked back down the street, before ducking into an alley. Scrambling up the fire escape was easy, the metal cold against his skin. Once he was level with one of the windows (it looked into an empty hall), he took a deep breath, and leapt. His fingers caught the ledge, the rough brick scratching at his real hand as he pulled himself up. Balancing on his toes, with only one hand on the ledge, he slid a knife under the window. Pushing it open, he ducked down, dropping in.

Bucky glanced around, pulling the hood down over his head. No cameras.

_Probably my only lucky break today_, he thought, as he began to walk, keeping his gaze on the floor. A sign at the end of the hall, said that this was the Intensive Care Unit. This was the floor she'd be on.

Someone grabbed his arm, pulling him back behind a corner. He stiffened, metal hand tightening into a fist.

"You shouldn't be here, James," a nurse murmured. Her badge said _Claire Temple._

"How do you-"

"I took care of you when you were sick," she said, not letting him finish. "You shouldn't be here."

"I'm here to see-"

"Cara," she said. "I know. I'm on her shift right now. But the CIA have been crawling all over the place, looking for _you_. I don't know exactly what you did, but you _really_ pissed someone off."

"Yeah," he said. "You could say that."

"Leave now," she said. "Or you'll incriminate Cara. Probably not the best thing for her right now."

Bucky paused, preparing for the worst. "She's... alive? Cara's okay?"

"She's alive," Claire said. "They brought in a doctor who did some experimental surgery and saved her life. Didn't cure her. She's unconscious. Has been for the past few hours."

Bucky shut his eyes, and for the first time since hearing that gunshot, he felt like he could breath. Running his hand down his face, he nodded, leaning against the wall.

"She's alive," he murmured. "She's alive."

"Now you know that," Claire said. "So _leave_ before they catch you."

He glanced at her, shaking his head. "No. I need to see her."

"They're guarding her room," she said. "I think Sam Wilson is there now."

"I don't care," he said. "I need to see her. _Please_."

She looked down, crossing her arms. "I swear, if I get fired for helping you."

"I won't get caught."

"They always say that in movies," she said, with a slight grin. "Then they get caught."

"Yeah, well, if there's one thing I've learned about movies, it's that they're really bad at being real. Especially spy movies. Or superhero ones. They're the worst."

She rolled her eyes, and walked about. "Follow me," she said, leading him down the hall. He glanced around. It was quiet for late night, with only the occasional cough or steady beep of monitors making any sound. Most of the doors to the rooms were closed.

As they approached the nurses station, she slowed down. Bucky saw Sam staring down at a cup of coffee in his hand outside a door. That was her room.

"Wait here," she said, lifting her hand slightly. Bucky watched as she glanced around, making sure no one was watching, typing into one of the computer. Suddenly, the quiet was shattered, as every alarm at the station began to go off. Sam looked up, as the nurses scrambled, rising slowly to his feet. He glanced around (Bucky ducked behind the corner) hand tightening on the cup, and walked towards them.

Claire nodded at him, and Bucky all but ran into the room, shutting the door behind him. It was dark, the only light coming from a heart monitor that gave a steady, gentle beat. His breath caught slightly when he saw her. She was lying on the bed, completely still save for the faint rise and fall of her chest. He walked in slowly, silently, moving towards her side. Her left arm was in a cast, draped over her stomach, and her right was covered in various needles and ports and bandages. He could see stitches and electrodes on her chest, disappearing under her hospital gown.

The heart monitor kept going.

She was alive.

Reaching out, he took lightly brushed his fingers over the top of her hand, dodging the IV that was stuck there. There was still blood beneath his nails, a sharp contrast against her pale skin. His hand wrapped around her wrist, feeling the weak pulse.

She was alive.

She was also freezing, skin ice cold against his. Carefully, he pulled the blanket up from around her waist up her chest. His gaze drifted slowly up to her pale, motionless face. Her lips were chapped, eyes sunken, and shadowed. Her face as littered with sickly yellow bruises.

She didn't looked like she was just asleep. She looked dead.

But she wasn't...

She was alive.

He remembered a cartoon, back when he was maybe sixteen, about Snow White. A song had played in the back. He remember the lyrics now, remembered the ghostly figure that danced around on screen, singing, _"__Folks, I'm goin' down to St. James Infirmary, see my baby there; She's stretched out on a long, white table. She looks so sweet, so cold, so fair." _The princess had been under a curse or something, trapped in an endless sleep. What if Cara never woke up?

Shaking, he pushed the hair back from her face. Her hair was like blood against her skin. He leaned down, and kissed her forehead lightly.

"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm right here. Please wake up. Please."

The door opened, and Claire slipped in, IV bag in hand. "You need to go," she said, pointing to the window. "They know something's up."

He nodded, and looked back down at Cara.

"You'll be alright," he murmured. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Nothing will stop me from coming back to you. I hope you can hear me. I want to you to know that. Nothing will ever stop me from coming back to you."

He backed away, towards the window.

"Thanks you," he said to Claire. "Again. Just... thank you for everything."

"Just try not to get arrested or almost die again," she said, with a smile, walking towards Cara.

"No promises."

"Didn't expect anything else," she said, as she changed the bag, glancing over her shoulder. "Hey... You alright?"

He paused, and then he shrugged, slipping out the window.

"I'm fine."

She didn't look like she believed him, but she didn't press it. He didn't even believe it.

As he crawled down the side of the building, away from Cara, away from his past, he remembered the last lines of the song from the cartoon, still sung by that haunting voice.

_"And if anyone else should ask you; Just tell 'em I've got some of those St. James Infirmary blues."_

**A/N:** yikes it's been a while. I added about 2000 words to chapter 17, if anyone wants to read that.

on to mad rambles about x men

\- REMEMBER WHEN I SAID IT'S ALL IN THE SAME UNIVERSE? IT IS ALL VERY MUCH IN THE SAME UNIVERSE. i'm so sorry for anyone who doesn't like the x men (do you people exist) but i have been dragged back into that hell hole, goodbye world, magneto was right.

\- The mutants that appeared are Franklin Richards, the Stepford Cuckoos, Ruth Aldine, Carmen Cruise, Hope Summers (shhh don't ask how she's there. blame logan or something. let her steal the telepath mutant powers just let her be there), Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe and of course, Charles Xavier.

\- this is how Cuckoos got to x mansion, if the writers of the xmcu knew how to use their characters (i'm still bitter about Emma in xm:fc).

\- Ok i'm not saying really anything's gonna happen here but power couple t'challa and ororo are in the same universe in this fic ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

\- Attention Reed Richards. Bucky Barnes has stolen your son. I repeat, Bucky Barnes has stolen your son. Franklin is younger here than how he usually is (I aged everyone down a few years because how cute are they now, I love my kids). Also I don't know how they're keeping him contained. Still makes more sense than anything marvel has done recently tbh

The point of this authors note is just... comics man. They're wild. No decision i ever make could be worse than the ones marvel have made recently so that's reassuring.

thank you for waiting for this, you guys are wonderful and i love you!


	49. Second By Second

There was no sharp intake of breath when Cara woke up. There was no fluttering of eyelids of startled sitting up. It didn't come back all at once.

It was like each piece of her had to be reassembled, like she was a puzzle, and it took time. Second by second went by, minute by minute, as everything slowly came back together.

Everything felt heavy. Every limb felt distant and far away, and her throat was raw, tongue feeling like sandpaper. Those were the first things Cara thought (although she couldn't hold on to them very long. Everything though scattered through her brain, making it impossible to hang onto anything.) And she had no idea where she was. She had no idea what time it was.

There was a beeping at her side. She gave a small gasp, opening her eyes slowly. That was difficult, like they had been painted over with lead. There was a white ceiling over her that spun. Her left arm wasn't moving. As she tried to sit up, there was a sharp pain in her gut. She winced, crying out softly, collapsing down again. She lifted her head, trying to see what it was. Her arm was pinned against her chest in a bright white cast. There was a brief moment of panic where she had no idea where she was or what was happening.

She began to shake, as images, memories, lingered at the back of her mind. Memories of a cold white room where a child had cried out in terror and agony. Memories where people wearing masks hovered just in her light of sight. Memories of murmured words she didn't understand, and whenever she heard them, pain followed. A scream began to force it's way out of her throat. She bit down onto her tongue, shutting her eyes, desperately trying to piece together where she was and what was happening.

There was a train. Cassius. The HYDRA base. Getting captured. The gun pointed at her head while Bucky begged for them not to hurt her. Escaping the small room. Finding the kids.

Watching as Cassius fought Bucky, as the man who betrayed her try to kill Bucky, her Bucky... She remembered how she been frozen, watching the knife edge towards Bucky's neck... Looking at the wild terror in Bucky's eyes, she had been paralyzed with a selfish, awful fear.

She had fought Cassius, and she had almost won, she had almost won. A shot had rang outThere was pain and blood. _Her blood._

Everything had been so cold. Bucky had said her name, over and over and over again. She had never before had she seen him look like that, and then he was gone, and Nat and Sam taking her away. And then, everything went black.

She opened her eyes again, and looked around. She was in a hospital room, a small one. Outside, she could hear the distant sounds of nurses, and doctors talking.

Cara listened as two voices outside got louder, and suddenly the door opened. Cara shut her eyes quickly, evening out her breathing. She couldn't stop the shaking.

"Listen," a woman was hissing. She knew that voice. She had known her since she was a child, she had trained with that voice, she had gone on missions with her. "You have to believe me. They aren't doing this for her."

"Who isn't?" another added, sounding tired. She recognized that one too, as it gently told her to hold still. As he desperately tried his best to keep her alive while she bled out in the back of a speeding car.

"The CIA," the woman said. "My bosses. I shouldn't even know this. They don't trust me enough, they don't trust anyone from SHIELD. But when I heard that my friend was shot, I did some digging."

"This has something to do with the Winter Soldier." It wasn't a question.

"In a way. She's the only person they know of that's had any contact with recently. They're going to risk her life to lure him out."

"It won't work. We told him to stay away."

"Oh, yeah, because that worked _so well_. I already saw him."

"You didn't call in backup?"

"Nat asked me not to. Explained what happened. What they did to him, what they made him do, what he means to her... to both of them. To both Cara and Natasha."

"You know about the brainwashing?"

There was a pause, and Cara assumed she was nodding. "And I know what they'll do to him. Someone, somewhere will execute him. It won't be a fair trial. They won't care that he didn't have a choice, they will kill him."

"You didn't see how he looked at her. Even if he comes back, he won't hurt her."

"I didn't say he would." There was a grimace in her voice. "They don't care about her, Sam. They don't care if she lives or dies. They don't care if she gets stuck in the crossfire. She'll take another bullet to protect him, and _they won't care_. And that's not the worst of it. James isn't the worst case scenario."

"What?" Sam said.

"He stays away, but Cara's helped to put some very bad people away. And those people are now walking free. Our prisons went down. Some of them want revenge. Many of them do. There's a huge amount of pressure on my superiors to start bringing in bad guys. The CIA don't care about one ex-SHIELD agent. We might as well all be HYDRA to them. They're going to get her killed, and I will not let that happen."

"What do I to stop it?"

"I'll be here for a while. When does everyone else come back?"

"Clint's back tomorrow. Nat and Steve won't be back until Wednesday. They're busy cleaning out the base, seeing what they find. They'll want to talk to her."

"Right. She'll be okay while she stays here in the hospital. Wherever they put her after will be a different story. They'll assign me far away, where I can't help. They aren't very big fans of you guys either."

"She'll be on her own."

"Yeah."

"We'll warn her."

"And what's she going to do? They'll keep her under lock and key, she won't be able to leave if she needs to."

"She can handle herself, Sharon, you said you've known her forever-"

"You don't understand, Sam," she said. "You don't understand how many times I've stood in a room, and she's been lying there. Sometimes... Sometimes I don't think she wants to be alive."

"She does. I heard her talking. She does want to live."

There was a laugh. It sounded broken, and tired. "You always try to make complete strangers feel better?"

"Hey, I work at the VA. Not much else for me to do."

"Thank you, Sam," she said. "I just... I can't lose anyone else right now... So many SHIELD agents died during the HYDRA uprising. I don't know where half my friends are. Bobbi, Melinda, I think, for the first time in a very long time, I'm completely alone."

"I'm not pretending to understand what you, any of you, are going through. But you're not alone."

The door opened. Their footsteps slowly retreated, and Cara barely managed to catch her last words.

"We're all alone, Sam... God. We're all truly alone."

* * *

Cara hadn't been able to sleep after that, shaking, trembling and in pain. She could physically feel the pain medicine fading, but there was no way in hell she was going to call anyone in to help her with _that_.

The words she had heard lingered in ever corner of her mind. She was being used as bait. Bait for Bucky. Bait for others. She didn't know who would be coming for her, but she did know that she was in no shape to defend herself.

But for right now, if she didn't move, and lay perfectly still, she felt, for the most part, okay. So that's exactly what she did, staring at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick by. Second by second. Minute by minute.

The door opened again, and she jumped, the movement making a shooting pain run down her back. Her head snapped up, hand lashing out to find anything to defend herself with. Claire, the nurse who helped Bucky, raised her hands.

"Woah there. Slow down," she said. "How long have you been awake for?"

"A few minutes," Cara said, slowly relaxing. The trembling didn't stop. Claire walked forward, a new IV bag in one hand.

"You should have called," she said. "There's a button to your left."

Cara glanced down. "Oh."

"I'm going to check your dressings really fast," Claire said, pulling at the tape on Cara's chest. She flinched when she saw the long line of stitches. It was just under her other scar. "Are you in any pain?"

She shook her head, after a moment's hesitation. "No."

"Are you lying to me?"

Another pause. "No."

"For a spy, you're a really shitty liar."

"Forgive me. I'm in a great deal of pain."

"You're due for another dose-"

"No!" Cara said sharply. Claire glanced at her.

"Why?"

"I... I need to stay awake." She wasn't just going to be a target... She had to stay alert. She had to protect herself.

"You need to rest," Claire said, as her hands moved down to the bandaged bullet wound. Cara couldn't bring herself to look down at it.

"Please, Claire..." she said.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I... I need to..." She couldn't bring herself to tell her.

"They'll keep you safe, Cara," Claire said, gently. She pulled back, readjusting the IV bag. "You don't have to worry."

Cara didn't answer, pulling her free arm tightly around her middle.

"James came by to see you," Claire said. Cara blinked up at her.

"What?"

"Snuck in through a window. I tried to tell him to leave, but he refused to do so until he saw you."

"Idiot," Cara hissed under her breath. "They're looking for him. They could have caught him."

"I know," Claire said simply, as she prepped whatever cocktail of drugs they were going to use to knock her out. "You ready for this?"

Cara didn't answer for a moment, turning her attention back to the clock on the wall. Just watching the time tick away second by second. Second by second.

"Yeah," she said, at last. "Yeah. I'm ready."

* * *

It appeared, that while the technology that saved her life still had a long way to go, the worst of the damage was fixed. Physical therapy, and bedrest was still needed, however, for a full recovery. It didn't fix the blood loss either, and Cara was probably going to be anemic for a while. Her arm was going be in a cast for at least another two weeks.

Dr. Helen Cho told her all this as she leaned over her with some sort of device that scanned where the wound was.

Cara had nodded, murmuring a quiet "Thank you." _For everything._

Dr. Cho smiled, and seemed to know exactly what she meant.

"She can be moved out of the ICU now," she had said, turning to Claire. The nurse had been standing, but the door, and she nodded slowly.

"You'll have to share a room with other patients," she said to Cara. She clearly remembered Cara's reaction to simply taking medicine that made her sleep. "It's been crowded. Don't have room for personal rooms right now."

"I don't mind," Cara said, although... what if one of those other patients was planted there? What if this was all an elaborate trap? She felt sick. "I'll be fine."

Claire had nodded, and left to go set that up. Dr. Cho scribbled away on a clipboard, occasionally glancing up at Cara's vitals.

"You work with the Avengers?" Cara said after a few minutes.

"Sometimes," she said. "Stark Industries was very generous with his funding for this project."

"Be sure to thank them for me," Cara said softly. "You're doing something good here."

"I'm just glad it worked," Helen said. Her hand brushed over Cara's shoulder. "You'll be alright, Ms. Fox."

"I hope so," Cara said. There was no feeling behind her words. Claire walked back in with a wheelchair.

"I'm just going to apologize in advance for the room you're going to," Claire said. She helped Cara slide out of the bed, grabbing her arm, and helping her take the few steps to the chair. The world swayed. As she collapsed into the chair, she had to shut her eyes, breathing deeply to fight down the nausea.

The chair wheeled out, and Cara opened her eyes slightly. She saw someone who was obviously CIA sitting reading a newspaper. She also saw Sam as the elevator doors closed, over by the nurses station. He gave her a small wave. She returned it with a smile.

(The ride down made her feel sick. Her hands had gripped the handles of her chair until her fingers turned white. She didn't let go until she was entering the room)

As she was wheeled in, the four other occupants looked up at her.

One was a heavily pregnant woman with dark hair and flashing green eyes. Her arms were crossed, and she looked pissed. A blonde woman with short hair sat in a chair at her side, feet on the bed, a magazine in her lap. They were next to a man with a broad grin in a full body cast. Across from them was a drop dead gorgeous woman, who was smirking slightly. The empty bed, where Cara assumed she would be staying, was beside her.

"Oh, look," the man said. "The new roommate. Hey, roomie."

"Don't bother talking to him," the pregnant woman said. "He's an idiot."

"Actually, I'm God's most beautiful mistake," the man said.

"At least he has the mistake part down," said the woman in the chair. Claire pushed the chair closer, stopping about ten feet away.

"You have to walk the rest of the way," she said. "The therapist'll have my ass if I don't make you walk."

Cara nodded, and pushed herself up painfully. She fought down the wave of dizziness, clinging tightly to the IV pole as she dragged it behind her. Claire reached for her arm, and helped her to the side of the bed, letting her sit down heavily. The moment she did, she sighed, collapsing backwards onto the pillows.

Everything hurt.

"Remind me never to do anything that lands me in a situation like this again," she murmured to Claire. She shook her head.

"Don't think you'll listen to me, but sure," she said. "Have fun with these three. They're a handful."

"Excuse you," the man said. "We're angels. I mean, I'm still a handful, if you catch what I'm saying, but..."

"If I have to hear that joke one more time, Wade, I will kill you," the woman beside Cara said. It was stated as fact.

"This is all your fault," the pregnant woman grumbled to the woman at her side at the same time.

"Oh, shut up," the blond one said. "I said, 'I know a great hospital, you'll love it, best in the galaxy,' and you said, 'No, Metro-General is nice and close to the action, it'll be fine.'"

Claire began to hook Cara back up to all the machines, leaving Cara to take in the people around her. The woman at her side caught her eye.

"Nasty bruise you have there," she said. Her accent sounded like it was Greek, maybe. Cara's hand went to her cheek, then fell back into her lap. She didn't even remember which fight it was from anymore.

"Yeah," she said, trying to play it off with a shrug. "Had worse though."

The woman laughed, shooting her a devilish grin. There was a hint of danger in her gaze that Cara recognized... She saw it in Bucky sometimes, and Natasha. This was no ordinary woman.

"Oh, me too," the woman said. She extended her hand. Cara reached out, shaking it, ignoring the jolt of pain in her gut. The woman's hands were calloused, and littered with light scars. Cara recognized them as those that came from throwing punches, and spinning knives. She was a fighter. "I'm Elektra."

"Cara," she said.

"What are you in for?" Elektra said, with an honest curiosity, tilting her head.

"Gunshot wound, and stupidity," she said. "You?"

"Stab wound, and stupidity," she said. She nodded across the room. "Wade there fell out of a building, and Jessica picked a fight while-"

"-Actively growing a human being in my stomach," Jessica said. "So put me in for stupidity too."

"Yeah," Wade said. "Welcome to the stupidity ward of the hospital. It's a club. We're all besties."

"And I'm Carol," the blonde woman said. "I'm just here for moral support."

Jessica shot her a look. "You only came here to yell at me, don't lie."

"That's true," Carol said. "That's very true." She stood up, stretching. "Anyways, I'm taking off now. I have to go feed Chewie."

"Have a hot date with Rhodes tonight?"

"Sort of. His best friend said he was better a better pilot than me. I have to prove them wrong."

"Ah. May god have mercy on their souls."

"You have that right," she said.

"Go get 'em, Danvers."

"You know I will, Drew."

She left, followed by Claire, who took the wheelchair with her.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said. "Have fun making friends."

"I'm sure we'll all bond wonderfully," Wade called.

"Just so you know," Jessica told Cara. "By the end of the night, you're going to want to kill him."

"Jessica Drew, I thought we were friends, on our way to becoming lovers."

"I'd honestly rather die," she said.

"You're both being children," Elektra said. "It's very funny, keep it up."

Cara smiled slightly, but it did nothing to dull the odd feeling of emptiness in her chest. She looked out the window, to the New York landscape. The midday sunlight filtered in, making her almost flinch from the brightness. She held her hands together, her nails digging into her skin. It wasn't enough to enough to draw blood, but it was enough to keep herself ground to earth through the pain. She could hear the wailing of sirens, and the screeching of tires, and the soft chatter of the other doctors.

Turning her attention to clock on the wall, she watched as the seconds ticked by.

Second by second.

Second by second.

**A/N:** I was reading a lot of conspiracy theories during writing this, so forgive me (some of them were true), and also rewatched the Banshee Chapter (which is one of my favorite horror movies) I have some freaky stories seriously just ask me The CIA is fucked up in this universe bro imagine how bad it is in this hellscape.

This was originally about a 1000 words longer but I didn't like that pacing, so I'll add it to the next chapter, which will be up within the next few days.


	50. A Fox It Was

**A/N:** In The Woods Somewhere by Hozier

_Cara was alone. The moon was bright overhead. The wind rustled through the colorless trees that surrounded her. The only stars in the skies were almost like eyes to a face built from night. She was walking. She couldn't remember when she began. It could have been seconds ago, it could have been years, or it could have been lifetimes. But it didn't matter. There was nowhere to be. All at that was real was herself, and the moon overhead, and the earth below her feet. There was no sound, save for the words that continued to fall from her mouth. Words she had thought she forgotten._

_"One for sorrow, two for joy," she murmured. Her voice echoed around her, as she repeated the rhyme. Her father... No, he was never her father, he was a monster. He had read the rhyme to her, back when she was a child. In the building with slate gray walls, and sterile white rooms, and ugly, bright lights._

_**"Our fate is set before us, and there is nothing we can do to stop it, little Cara," **__he had said.__**"But sometimes, sometimes, you can know what's coming. I saw three ravens sitting in a row on the day you born. Did you know that? My child, you were foretold by the stars themselves."**_

_She kept walking, away from the memory, deeper into the forest, deeper into the silence._

_It was a heavy thing, the quiet, linger on her skin like fog. Only her own voice broke it until there was a scream. She jumped, spinning around. A woman lay on the ground, staring back at her with a vacant emptiness in her green eyes. She had red hair, and was wearing a thin white dress that looked almost like a hospital gown. Almost. The faded fabric contrasted sharply with the bright crimson stain on her stomach. Her fingers splayed across it. Blood was dripping down her fingers, landing in the soft forest floor. She wasn't breathing. She was dead. Cara knelt beside her, not touching the body, no, just sitting. And then she realized with a start that the woman was familiar._

_It was her. The dead woman was her._

_She took a step back, hands flying up to her mouth. Her own dead eyes almost seemed to follow the movement. Vines had already wound around her wrists and neck and feet, as if drawing her back into the earth. As if burying her itself._

_There was a growl. Cara looked up from the crumpled body, to see a fox, as red as the hair on the woman, on herself, snarling at her. Its leg was broken, pale bone showing, its fur matted with blood. It's bright white teeth glinted like the moon overhead._

_Cara did not dare move. Its flashing green eyes didn't leave hers. She didn't no how long she stood there. It could have been seconds, years, lifetimes, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter._

_There was bang, and a sharp stabbing pain in Cara's stomach. The colorless world flickered for a moment as Cara snapped out of her trance. She looked down to see red spilling from a bullet wound. Her gaze drifted up, and she saw Cassius staring at her with a gun raised. He smiled at her, he always smiled at her._

_The fox lunged forward, and that's when she began to run. Run, and run ,and run, deep into the forest. Deep into the night. Her breath became ragged, she couldn't breath. There was blood. There was blood everywhere. Her hands were covered with it. The trees weren't colorless anymore. They were red, a bright crimson red, bathed in the color of the moon. It wasn't silent either. The air was filled with the screeching of crows. With chanting voices. Whispering, hissing, screaming at her, over, and over, and over again._

_**Run, Cara, run.**_

_**You lost them. You lose everyone.**_

_**Run, run, run!**_

_**Come back to me, Cara.**_

_**You have to run!**_

_She gasped as the trees became a blur of leaves and bark and scarlet shadows. She didn't know where she was going, but it did not matter. It didn't matter here, it never matter here, where dreams were all that was left of reality._

_She was curled up in the roots of a tree before she knew it, hands over her ears. It did nothing to block out the voice. If anything they got louder._

_Louder, and louder, and LOUDER-_

_"Stay with me, Cara, stay with me," Bucky was saying. The sound of him broke through it all. She turned towards him. He was here. She didn't know how he had done it. The tattered blue of his uniform stood out starkly against the red of the forest. His hair was short, his hands both made of flesh and bone, but his eyes, his eyes revealed all the horrors he had seen. "Don't leave me. Don't give up. Stay with me, Cara."_

_"Oh, my dearest love," she said, between her shuddering breaths. "I'm not done yet."_

_The fox was in front of her again, suddenly, and Bucky was gone. Its green eyes mirrored her own. She lifted her hands, as if begging for mercy, and that's when the fox lunged-_

Cara woke up sharply, the sudden movement making her every muscle in her body protest. Her breaths were ragged, as she slid her hands into her hair, closing her eyes. She was still in the hospital room. There was no forest. It was a dream, it was only a dream. Overhead, the full moon hung from a starless, cloudless sky. The room was filled with soft pale light, and geometric shadows of buildings and passing cars. The other people in the room were all still asleep, making everything uncharacteristically quiet.

Drawing her knees to her chest. Turning to look out the window, at the moon, she repeated her final words to herself, or to the night, or to anyone that ever wanted to hurt her.

_"I'm not done yet."_

* * *

"Do you always sit by complete strangers in hospitals?" Cara said. Sam looked up from his book, flashing a lopsided grin at her.

"Honestly, this happens more often than it should," he said. "Anyways, got tired of lurking around the nurses' stations."

He had walked a few minutes ago, shooting her a quick hello. The moment he sat down, he whipped out a book on military history, and didn't bother with an explanation. Jessica was visiting another doctor and would be back later. (She had loudly exclaimed that she was "too fucking pregnant to be in this room," and that they were "drive her into labor."). Both Elektra and Wade been sent off to PT, and had left her alone for a solid hour before Sam showed up.

(She didn't think about how she hadn't been able to breath. As if the silence of the hospital room, broken only by her rapidly beating heart, was suffocating her. She didn't think about how vulnerable she was here, alone, with no witnesses. She didn't think about how scared she had been. About how something as simple as four walls containing no one but her and her thoughts nearly consumed her.)

The strangers line was the first thing she'd said to him. He

"So," he said, looking up at her over the top of his book. "How'd you meet Barnes?" He said in an offhand fashion, acting cool and uncaring, but she could see the curiosity in his gaze.

"Was by the Potomac when the helicarriers went down," she said, smiling faintly. She remembered how he had dragged himself and Steve from the water. "Natasha told me he was James Barnes. I don't know why I decided to try and help him... He just looked so human. Not what you'd expect from an assassin."

"So, you followed him home or whatever? Spies are creepy."

She laughed. "Worse actually. I tracked him the Smithsonian, and pretended I was normal. Gave him a bit of stability for a while."

"Bet he loved it when he figured out."

"Yeah," she said, and the laughter died. She could still see the hurt and hatred in his eyes. Feel his arm against her throat. Hear the slight tremor in his voice as he told her he would kill her if he ever saw her again. Her fingers brushed against her neck absently, and she sighed, gaze drifting off. Bucky's dog tags were in a plastic bag, on a table beside her bed, along with her wedding ring. They were stained a bright red. "Threatened to kill me, told me he never wanted to see me again."

Sam looked up at her over the top of his book. "Hey, Cara? I barely know you, alight, and you seem like you're usually a smart woman. But taking in a complete stranger who you know killed people was a really fucking stupid thing to do."

"I know," she said, shooting him a dark grin. "But I have a soft spot for broken things."

It was Sam's turn to laugh, shrugging slightly. "Guess I'm guilty of that as well. I let Captain America into my house, and followed him around killing bad guys after talking to him, like, twice. Probably not the ideal way to make friends."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Cara said.

"Yeah," Sam said. "I mean, I get to road trip around with Captain fucking America, and shoot up neo-Nazis. What's not to love?"

"You really are living the dream," she said. Sam opened his mouth, about to throw back some anecdote when the door was flung open. Cara jumped, hand lashing out to find a gun out of pure habit. Sam's did the same, dropping to his side, as he stood up quickly. A man walked in, with graying hair, and glasses that looked like they were from the eighties. There was something unsettling about him. Something she couldn't quite place.

"At ease, Mr. Wilson," the man said, barely looking at her. Cara noted that he didn't use any military rank. That was the moment she decided she hated the man. "I'm Agent August Masters with the CIA. I'm here to talk to Miss Fletcher."

_It's Fox,_ Cara thought, the words lingering on the edge of her tongue. _My name is Cara Fox. I am Cara Fox_.

She stayed silent, keeping her name, her cover, her new identity to herself. She wasn't ready to lose it yet, not by telling the CIA about it.

"What's happening?" Sam said. He stood in between her and the agent, arms crossed. She had known him for a few minutes at most, and he was already standing between her and a potential threat. He was a good man.

"I need to speak to Miss Fletcher alone," he said. "I have questions about her... ordeal."

_They want to know about Bucky, _Cara thought, stomach dropping.

"Whatever you need to ask, you can ask in front of Sam," she said, and she was so glad she had trained her voice not to waver.

"I have to insist that he leave," Masters said. "This is highly confidential information-"

"Sam stays," Cara said firmly. The man stared at her, a flicker of some emotion flashing over his face. Impatience. Distrust. Desperation. He wanted to find Bucky, and he didn't care what happened to her. She knew that. And that made her all the more thankful that Sam was staying, standing beside her with his arms crossed.

Masters sat down next to her, taking a tape recorder out from his briefcase, and placing on the bed. He turned it on. The tape began to click. Honestly this was decades old. It was like the man had stepped out of a different era.

"State your name."

"Cara Fletcher," she said, quietly. It had long since stopped being hers.

"Is it true you worked at SHIELD for the past eight years?"

She gave a short nod. "Yes."

"Did you have any knowledge the organization HYDRA existed?"

"I thought it had died with the Red Skull in World War II," she said. "I had no idea it survived."

There was a shadow of doubt in his face, but it's not like she expected him to believe her. He pulled a file out of his briefcase, and throwing at her side. She picked it up, opening it to see a photograph of Bucky pinned to the first page. It was old, twenty years at least, obviously taken immediately after he was taken out of cryo. Her hands shook as she picked it up. That wasn't her Bucky. His eyes were dull, not quite looking at the camera, but rater through it. His shoulders were hunched, mouth pressed into a hard line as he sat stiffly in the dark. He just looked so... broken.

"Do you know this man?" Masters said.

She nodded mutely.

"Answer out loud."

"Yes. Yes, I know him."

"State his name"

"Bucky... I mean, James," she murmured. "His name is James Barnes." Her voice, although soft, didn't waver.

"When did you meet him?"

"A few months ago," she said.

"Were you aware of his identity at the time?" Masters asked. There was no change in his tone.

"No," she lied, careful to keep every tell she could in check. She would not be caught in this lie. Not when she was talking about Bucky. "We just... fell in together. "

"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

"I didn't know anything about him," she said. "He needed a place to stay, and I needed help with rent. You see, I had recently lost my job." Sam snorted at that, quickly disguising it as a cough.

"So, at the time of meeting him, you had no idea of his identity?"

"I found out later," she said with a shrug.

He didn't look at all convinced. "Where is he now?"

Cara felt something protective rise in her chest. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he enunciated each word. Cara felt her heart beat faster. She didn't know. She didn't know anything. All she knew is that Bucky was a massive idiot, and very possibly sneak back in to see her.

"He was there when I was shot. I haven't seen him since."

"Is it true that you lived together?"

The question took her by surprise. "Yes."

_How did they know?_

"And yet you have no idea where he is now?"

"No. I don't. I haven't see him."

"Once again," he said, leaning forward. "Forgive me if I find it hard to believe that hard to believe."

"What do you mean, Agent Masters?" Cara said, carefully. This wasn't going anywhere good.

"It's simply... improbable that mere days after SHIELD falls, _you_ simply happen to _find_ a known terrorist and agent of HYDRA. Not to mention move in with him, go on the run with him, get shot beside him."

Another set of pictures was tossed on her lap, grainy and unfocused. These were taken the day the bookstore had burned down. One had her arms were thrown around his neck, and he was holding her so close, her feet were about to lift off the ground. Another had him cradling her face, staring down at her in almost horror. There was no mistaking either their identities nor the sheer relief and terror in both their faces.

Cara opened her mouth, desperately struggling to figure out what to say. "Are you insinuating,_Agent Masters, _that I am a traitor? That I work for _HYDRA_?" Sam shifted slightly beside her.

"I am stating a remarkable coincidence, along with some damning evidence."

"_Coincidental_ evidence," she said. "I've been with SHIELD my entire life. Why would I betray them?"

"You've been with SHIELD your entire life, and yet you heard no whispering about their true purpose-"

"That wasn't _them_," she said, voice rising. "SHIELD made a lot of mistakes, but they weren't HYDRA, and neither am I-"

"Then why did you run?" Masters said, and he was beginning to shout too. "If you were truly innocent, you would have stayed and faced trial."

"You don't know who I put away, Agent Masters," she said. "There are very dangerous people on the loose, and I am at the top of their target lists."

"I believe you are one of those dangerous people, Miss Fletcher."

"I am was an agent of SHIELD, but _I am not HYDRA_-"

"Yet you travel in the company of a known HYDRA assassin who has killed in service against this country-"

"Stop," she said, voice cracking.

"-and step around any questions related to the suspect. Not to mention, you were found injured in a HYDRA facility after it was raided by Captain America-"

_The gun clicks behind her head, and Bucky pleads for her life, and all she can do is watch him._

_The bullet hits her stomach, and she's dying, she thinks she's going to die._

_She's in an operating room, and people rush around her, and she wants to die, because has been there before. __**She's been there before. **__She's rather die than go through something like that again, but all she can do is scream._

"Stop it!" she said, louder, putting her hands over her ears, and shutting her eyes.

"-It only seems reasonable to assume that you have acted in conspiracy against this country-"

"Please, _stop it_!" she said, feeling the exhaustion for the past few days beginning to drown her. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her fingers tightened in her hair, pulling slightly. The words echoed, drowning her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe, she wasn't a traitor, and _she_ _couldn't breathe-_

Sam stepped in between them.

"You need to go," he said. "She'll answer your questions later."

"You have no authority here-"

"You heard him," a new voice said. Cara's head snapped up. Masters spun around, and Sam visibly relaxed. Steve stood in the doorway, SHIELD on his back. Natasha stood at his side, arms crossed. "She'll answer your questions later."

"Captain Rogers," Masters said. "This is a very time sensitive issue-"

"Two days ago, she almost died," Steve said. "It can wait. Unless you want to deal with Stark's army of lawyers for harassing an injured woman."

The agent back off, snatching the pictures and files out of Cara's lap. He glared down at her, and there was no attempt to hide his contempt. Bucky's dark, vacant eyes stared back at her for a moment.

"This is not the end, Cara Fletcher," he said, before spinning around, and storming out of the room. The moment he was out of view she brought her news up to her chest, hugging them against her. The blanket in front of her was held tightly in her free hand. She still couldn't quite breath.

_I'm not a traitor, I'm not a traitor, I'm not a traitor, _she thought. Even then, she wondered about what things HYDRA made her do under the guise of SHIELD?

"Thank god you're here," Sam said, as Steve walked up to him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"And thanks for telling me about this," Steve said. Sam had probably texted him the moment he heard a CIA agent was coming to talk to her. "You alright?"

It took all her energy to look up at him, flashing a weak smile. "Yeah. The guy was a jerk, but yeah. I'm fine."

Her shaking hands made the lie painfully obvious. Steve picked up on it easily. All three of them did. Natasha shot her a look.

"Why was he here?"

"He accused me of being HYDRA," she said. "And he was asking about Bucky. He wanted to know about Bucky." Steve glanced at Natasha. Cara guessed that both of them probably went under the same interrogation. She guessed all ex-SHIELD agents did.

"You didn't say anything about...?" he trailed off slightly.

Cara shook her head. "I don't know where he is Steve. I wish I did, for my own sake, but I don't."

Steve nodded, and Cara caught the flash of disappointment that crossed his face. "But is he... is he okay?"

She thought about his nightmares. How sometimes he would forget where he was. How he had talked about himself so bitterly, like he was merely a weapon.

"I don't know," she said. "He's doing better. He talks to me much more that he used to. Sometimes he remembers things. About you, about his sisters, his mom. And he sometimes he remembers the war... and what they did to him."

Steve's face had shifted the moment she mentioned the war. He had looked pained when she mentioned Bucky's family. But it was nothing compared to the devastation at thought of the things they had seen during those years. It was nothing compared to the thought of the seventy years of torture that Bucky had endured.

"He's a good man," she said. "Always stopping bullies. Always making sure I'm okay. He's a good person. The things he did. He hates himself for it. He's a good person."

Steve nodded, and for a moment, he looked much older than he should. But then he smiled (not a quite a genuine one... but not insincere either.)

"Of course he's a good person," he said. "His ma would have kicked his ass if her son grew up to be any less."

"I hope she'd be proud of him," she said. There was a pause, and Steve nodded.

"Yeah... Even after everything, I think she'd be proud of her son."

**A/N:** the dream at the beginning a friendly reminder that i am still 100% sandman trash :))) dc where is my endless son.

also it's really inspired by all of the dream sequences in bvs bc damn that movie makes me emotional (i straight up stole snyder's themes bc i can if i want) and In The Woods Somewhere by hozier (stole his themes too idgaf). feel free to talk to me about it because i slipped a lot of stuff in and i don't remember what they are right now whoops

(basically all my favorite bucky stories updated today, and i decided to join the trend because i've had the shittiest day imaginable and i can't sleep. another chapter will be up in a few minutes, and then some things you don't have to read, they're just here for organization)


	51. Forget The Horror Here

**A/N: **Spanish Sahara by Foals

Hours after Sam, Steve, and Natasha left, each of her roommates returned. She had picked up bits and pieces about their pasts as the hours went on. Wade Wilson was a mercenary, and had a girlfriend named Vanessa. Jessica had a bad past, and was apparently a private investigator. She also hated to talk about her pregnancy, and barely even acknowledged it half the time. Carol stopped in a several times, she was a pilot, and had a love of space and Star Wars. Elektra was harder to read. Greek, got into knife fights, enjoyed setting off Wade to watch Jessica's reaction. She reminded Cara of Natasha in some ways, closed off and at first glance, cold. There was a layer of tragedy that surrounded her, but under that was something else. All Cara knew was that her first assumption had been right. Elektra was dangerous.

The conversation tonight was "try-to-guess-the-Jeopardy-answer". Cara was alright at the history ones, but failed miserably at everything dealing with pop culture. Wade was surprisingly winning the game.

Jessica was in the middle of shouting an answer when Cara's caught him glancing at the window.

He nodded towards it. "Alright, which one of you have their boyfriend over after mommy and daddy say lights out?"

Cara's head snapped up. Her hand again instinctively dropped towards her side, searching blindly for a gun that was not there. She blinked once as she took in the figure.

"Bucky," she breathed. He was holding on to the frame, balanced precariously on his toes, but he didn't look worried at all. She had no idea how he got up there. They were six stories up, nowhere near a fire escape.

Sliding stiffly out of the blankets, she winced as a sharp pain shot through her stomach. moving slowly towards him, dragging the IV pole behind her. The window was easy to open, just a latch or two that came undone fast, and he dodged the window pane as she pushed it out. There was a grace to his movements, like breaking into a hospital was something he did on a regular basis. He dropped in, landing in front of her, completely silent.

Her arms were around him before he could say anything. He froze for a moment, one hand landing on her back, pulling her closer, almost hesitantly.

"Bucky," she whispered. "You shouldn't be here. They're looking for you-"

"_You_ shouldn't be by the window," he murmured, cutting her off. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the three smirking faces. He was obviously sizing them all up.

"Bucky, you need to get out. They're going to catch you."

"They don't know I'm here," he said. He still didn't look down at her. "You shouldn't be by the window, the opposite building's too close. Ideal position for a sniper."

"Didn't really have a choice of bed," she said, swaying slightly. His hand tightened slightly on her waist, eyes flashing. "Please Bucky. Please, you have to leave. They'll kill you, or they'll take you away. They knew you were going to come. They're... They're watching me, they're waiting for you."

"They don't know I'm here, Cara, and they won't find out," he said. "Trust me."

"Bucky, please, I can't lose you-"

"Trust me," he murmured, meeting her gaze for the first time. His eyes were shadowed, exhaustion lining every corner of his face. He hadn't been sleeping, and her guess was that he had barely been eating as well. "You trust me, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed quietly. "I do. I trust you. But first sign of trouble, you run. Do you hear me? I don't care what you have to do. Don't let them catch you. Don't let them take you away."

"I won't," he said. "If HYDRA couldn't keep me, how well do you think they would?"

"HYDRA did keep you, for seventy years," she said, rolling her eyes. "Not your best example."

He helped her move back to the bed, keeping his hands tight on her waist as she sat down, leaning against back of the bed. Her eyes drifted to the other people in the room. They stared back silently, smirking, Jeopardy was long forgotten. They clearly saw this break of the norm as prime entertainment. "There's a curtain, Bucky. Can you close it?"

He nodded, walking over, and sliding it shut quickly, with a pointed glare at all of them.

"I'd like to remind you that we can still hear everything," Elektra said, voice still clear from the other side of the curtain.

"_Everything_," Jessica repeated.

"They're trying to say not to have sex," Wade said.

"Thank you for that explanation, Wade. They were being _so_ subtle," Cara said loudly. "Just turn on the TV. Wheel of Fortune is on soon."

"It's not on for another twenty minutes," Wade said. The television clicked on, blaring music loudly. "You know it's just Jeopardy reruns."

"Have fun anyways," she said, attention obviously starting to drift away from them. She glanced up at Bucky, who stood stiffly at her side. He was staring down at her hand, the one covered in needles, fingers brushing ever so slightly over the top of it.

"Are you okay?" he murmured. He didn't look up at her.

"Yeah. Yeah, they fixed me," she said, just as quietly.

"You shouldn't be in here," he said. "You shouldn't be with them. You should be... alone."

Cara raised an eyebrow. "In an isolation? By myself? Far away from anyone and everything?" she said, unable to keep an edge of sarcasm off her voice.

"No," he said quickly, and paused, trying piece together what he meant. "In one of _their_ buildings. Why aren't you there?" His voice dropped even lower. She knew what he meant. Why wasn't she with the Avengers?

"Because I'm not one of them, Bucky, and I never will be," she said. "I'm a c-list ex-SHIELD agent who happened to train with the Black Widow a few times, and ran three or four cooperative missions with Strike Team DELTA. Honestly, the only reason I'm here right now is because of _you_. Because you asked them to help me."

She vaguely remembered the conversation, a memory trapped between delirious dreams and painful reality.

_"Save her," he had said. She had been reaching for him. She had told him to leave, but she had lied. She wanted him to stay with her. She had lied. "I don't care what you have to do, just save her."_

They had done that. They did what he asked. They had done it because he was a thousand times more important than she would ever be. Because she was expendable, cannon fodder for invisible bullets.

"That's not-" he started.

"Bucky, I'm at a hospital, and I'm alive," she said, cutting him off. "That's all you asked them to do."

He sighed, and sat down on the side of her bed. "I know they have better facilities than a public hospital where anyone can walk in," he said, sounding more than a little disappointed. "If I could get in here this easily, so can others."

Her stomach dropped a little at his tone. Even though she knew she was reading too much into it, she felt a shudder of fear. It was irrational, but her train of thought jumped to the worst possible scenario. She was used to that recently.

"Bucky, do you want to be here?"

"Yes, of course I do Cara. I won't leave you," he said, quickly and firmly. "I just... I just want you to be safe."

She thought about what Sharon had said. The CIA, the NSA, the entire goddamn government didn't trust people like them. They didn't trust spies, didn't trust their sacrifices. SHIELD and HYDRA were one and the same to them. She was an expendable pawn in a dangerous game. She was very, very far from being safe.

"I want to be safe too," she said, and her voice cracked slightly. "I don't want to be afraid anymore." He looked up at her for the second time today, and the hard expression melted away. He shifted closer to her, as her hands tightened on the blanket around her waist, tilting her head back. She shut her eyes, and Bucky's fingers brushed over her hand again, lightly, hesitantly running up her arm to her shoulder. It was like they had gone back in time. When he was too afraid to touch her, or even really speak to her.

She kept talking... She didn't know if she could stop. "I don't want to imagine that someone's waiting for me wherever I go. That someone's going to hurt me again the moment I let my guard down. I don't want to be afraid of strangers walking past me, that everyone is an enemy. I don't want to think that every new face is someone working for HYDRA, or the Deathless... Or that every footstep is Cassius... Or that you'll be taken away from me," she said. "I want to be safe, Bucky. I don't want to be scared anymore."

He slid his hand into hers, and her mind raced to what he had said before, on the train.

_Safety is an illusion, Cara._

She would never really ever be safe, and that thought made her want to break down. She could never really be safe, and that was all she wanted.

"Cassius won't ever hurt you again," he said. There was something about his tone that made her blinked, sitting up.

"You killed him?" she said. She didn't know what answer to expect, or even what answer to want.

There was no emotion on his face when he shrugged. "It was convenient."

She gave a sharp laugh, trying to figure out exactly what she was feeling. Relief, definitely relief. A sadistic delight, maybe. And, buried deep down, was... sadness. He was dead. He was gone. The man who had once taken a bullet for her, who had shot her, who she had loved, and then he betrayed her, was dead. Bucky's hand tightened on hers.

"Good," she said. "Good, good, _good_."

He didn't say anything as he sat down next to her, pulling her sharply into his arms. Her face was hidden in the crook of his neck, fingers tangling in his shirt. He held her tightly, for the first time since she'd been bleeding out.

"I'm just so tired," she said, voice muffled, and she hated how weak her voice sounded.

"I know," he said, leaning back, cradling her face, thumbs brushing down. Like he was wiping away tears that never fell. His gaze drifted around it slowly, like he was memorizing every detail. "любимая моя. Cara."

"Bucky," she said. "James." Her hand landed on top of his, and that was about all she could bring herself to say.

"I have to go," he murmured. "I'll see you again. As soon as I can."

She nodded. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," he said, standing up, and leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "But I'll see you as soon as I can."

His hands lingered in her hair for a moment, before clasping her own tightly, and letting go. He looked almost guilty as he did, turning away sharply.

She watched as he went to the window, sparing a glance back at her. As he shot her small smile, disappearing down the side of the building, she could see the look in his eye. There was no denying it. He blamed himself for this.

She sat back in her bed, and closed her eyes.

She didn't know what she was going to do after this. She didn't know what would happen. All she knew was that her plan had not changed his that first. After everything, it had not changed.

She was going to protect the Winter Soldier, or she was going to die trying.

**A/N: **it's 4 in the morning i'll fix this tomorrow someone help me

also not gonna lie, while i was describing elektra my first thought was "cara, chill, you're being super gay rn"


	52. L'Oiseau de feu 1

"So," Elektra said, glancing at Cara, as the room began to slowly dim and the sun set. "What was that it about?"

Bucky had been gone for a few hours. No one had noticed, and Cara had a feeling the other three wouldn't say anything. Wade was fast asleep, snoring. Jessica was on her phone, not really paying attention to either of them.

"That was my friend," she said, careful to control her tone.

"I've known some interesting people," Elektra said. "Heard some ghost stories about a man with a metal arm. Tall, dark, mysterious. Dangerous too. Involved with some _very_ bad people. You wouldn't know anyone about that?"

"Your friends have interesting imaginations," Cara said, almost sharply. Who exactly had Elektra been talking to, to get that information?

"You have no idea," Elektra murmured, lips twitching into a sardonic smile. "I know who he is, Cara."

"He's my friend," she repeated.

"Looked like a little more than friends," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Staring into each other's eyes, whispering to each other..." She smirked, and Cara could hear the teasing edge in her voice. "You know, I'm _very_ good at reading body language, is he your boyf-"

"_No_," Cara said. "You're acting like we're thirteen at a sleepover."

Something flashed over Elektra's face, and for a moment, she didn't look like the woman Cara was used to. She looked vulnerable and tired. Cara had a feeling she had never really been a thirteen at a sleepover.

"The point is," Elektra said, and all trace of emotion was gone. "I _know_who he is. He's dangerous."

"Not to me," Cara said.

Elektra studied her moment, eyes flashing, before she shrugged.

"Whatever you say, Cara," she said, turning her attention to the television. A report was playing on the news, discussing the financial future of New York. The two news anchors were debating on how this would affect the lower class citizens. The debate in particular seemed to be focused on places such as Hell's Kitchen. One of the anchors was describing the corruption that ran rampant through the system. She explained that large companies were buying up apartments, raising rent, expelling tenants. The other was shaking her head, denying it.

"But do you have any proof of that this is happening?" the second anchor said.

"Look around you!" the first said, voice rising. "There are children whose parents can't afford to feed them! People in their seventies and eighties kicked out onto the streets? And you know what? Where are the so-called heroes? The Stark Foundation gave a generous sum of money, but _where did it go_? If the people they're supposed to save die on the streets, it all seems a bit useless-"

The screen flickered slightly, cutting off the reply of the other anchor. Static filled the screen, and the volume raised. Cara could feel her heart begin to beat faster. That shouldn't be happening. That was strange. If there was one thing she learned, it was that anything out of the ordinary lead to bad things.

Elektra tilted her head. "Interesting," she said, almost to herself.

The newscaster's voice was lost completely in the white noise, her face gone too. Then, a new picture flicked back on. It was a stage, the back ground a forest. Cara gasped, feeling like she'd been punched. Her hands tighten on the blankets. Elektra glanced at her.

"No," she said. The chords of the strings descended, falling. The figure danced lightheartedly around stage. "No, no, no. No, please. _No!_"

She knew what this was.

She was vaguely aware of Elektra asking her something. But the only thing she could focus on was the screen. She swung her legs out of bed, the hard floor cold against her feet, but she could barely feel it. She was shaking, swaying from side to side. Taking a few steps forward, she stood beneath it.

The dancer wore a red dress, like flames, her makeup done to resemble feathers. She spun across the stage, bright and delicate against the dark that surrounded her. The spotlight focused on her, but Cara could see other shadowy figures in the scenery. Watching her. Waiting. Following her. The step seemed to changed, any bright energy gone. She danced as if she was running. Cara couldn't mistake the absolute terror on her face.

She knew exactly what this was. This was a taunt.

The lights flickered, going out completely, and Cara flinched violently. It left the television as the only source of light, a pale blue and red.

"Leave me _alone_," she said quietly, voice trembling slightly. Whether it was with rage or fear or hatred she couldn't tell. Her muscle in her body was tense. "I'm not going back. I'm never going back. You'll have to kill me before that happens. Leave me alone!"

**"Come home, Cara,"** _he_ said. The voice was doubled over, echoing in the static, bodiless against the dance. But there was no mistaking it. For the first time in twenty years, _he was talking to her_. She felt like she was five years old. She felt sick, stomach dropping to her feet, room spinning. All she could do was stand there, frozen, shaking. **"We've been waiting you."**

"_Leave me alone,_" she said, voice cracked.

**"We're coming to get you. You're coming home."**

"No," she said. "No, no, no. _Stay away from me!_"

**"We're coming to get you."**

Every emotion she felt was building up in her chest and throat. All the _fear_, and the _anger_, and the _helplessness_ rose to the surface, and she screamed. She screamed. Her fists hit the screen, once, twice, and it cracked beneath them. She didn't even feel it. She couldn't feel anything. Everything was numb.

The video froze, and flickered out. The lights shuddered back on. The screen returned to the news report, as if nothing had ever happened.

"Cara," Elektra said. "What just happened?" Wade and Jessica were both staring at her.

She shook her head mutely, backing away from the television, unable to shop the tremors in her hands. The backs of her knees hit her bed, and the room spun around her. She distantly felt her legs give out as she collapsed, covering her mouth, staring at some distant point on the wall. She brought her legs to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible.

This wasn't real. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real.

The door swung open. Agent Masters stood there, glowering down at her. It was clear that whatever had happened wasn't isolated to just this room.

"You," he snapped. She didn't miss the wild look of desperation in his eyes. This was bad. This was bad. This was bad. "You're being transferred. Be ready to leave in ten minutes."

She didn't move. She _couldn't_ move. He clapped his hands. She flinched, jumping slightly.

"_Now_!" he said, turning around, and slamming the door shut. She rose shakily to her feet, and the effort nearly drained everything out of her. pain stabbing through her gut. She felt sick, and numb. A part of seemed to take control, closing the curtain around her bed as if on autopilot.

There was a bag of generic, cheap clothes at the end of her bed, bought by the CIA. There were no weapons in the room. She felt defenseless. The panic on the face of Agent Masters added to everything. This was bad.

She turned back to the bedside table, and stared at the dog tags. She saw Bucky's name. He wasn't going to know where she was. She wasn't going to be here when he came back. What if they caught him? What if she never saw him again? She held them tightly, the cold metal biting into her hand. She could barely feel it. She breathed out, once twice, three times, counting to ten, second by second.

She had told Bucky that she wanted to be safe. She had told him she didn't want to be afraid anymore. But the universe,i t seemed, had a personal vendetta against. She wondered what she did to deserve this much _shit_.

The numbness evaporated, and was replaced by an explosion of _fury_. She kicked the table, and it clanged loudly against the wall. Sitting down, she buried her face in her hands. She didn't care that she wasn't alone in the room, not know who knew she breaking down. _Every_ time she got out of something alive, every time she escaped, it just got worse. Every chance she had at happiness was snatched from her. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and she was _angry._

She was tired of feeling like this. She didn't deserve it. She was _so angry_, chest filled with a burning rage that burned and pulsed with her blood_._She raised her head slowly, eyes bright with tears. This was bad. But not just for her.

No, she pitied anyone who ever tried to hurt her again.

* * *

He could still feel her blood on his hands.

Bucky stood in the abandoned apartment. It still looked the same. Their stuff hadn't been moved out yet. The beds, their clothes, their food, it was all still here. The window had been unlocked, just as he had left it. Nothing was touched.

It was stupid to come back here, and he knew it, but he hadn't been able to help it. The moment he had left the hospital, he had felt a pang of almost crushing homesickness in his chest. And the apartment, as dangerous as it was, was the closest thing to home he had left.

(She had been staring at him, and she looked like a shell of her former self. Any masks she had worn were gone. When he had held her, he had felt her clutching him desperately. Guilt had gnawed at his chest. His fault. It had to have been his fault. She got hurt, she was hurting, because he hadn't been able to stop it. His fault.)

He stared at the mirror in front of him, and he could still feel it under his nails, on his skin, on his clothes.

He had showered the moment he had made sure there was none waiting for him, and that all entrances were secure.

He had scrubbed at his hands, until the metal gleamed, and his skin was raw, but he could still feel it.

Even though he had seen her, he couldn't quite believe it. Every time he shut his eyes he saw her staring up at him, crying as she clung to him, bleeding out and dying. Every time he shut his eyes he heard the shot ring out, he could taste the blood on the tip of his tongue. He saw her lying in that hospital bed, cold and unmoving. His heart twisted painfully. All the guilt he had been feeling bubbled to the surface with a new intensity. Every dead body he had left behind haunted him, and _hers_ had almost been one of them. If they had stayed few more minutes, or if that bullet had been a few inches up, and Cara would have died there. She would have died.

He looked up at his reflection, hands braced on either side of the sink. The dull fluorescent light made him look like a ghost. His face was gaunt, eye sunken. His hair fell in his face, and it was obvious he hadn't shaved in a few days. There were discolored bruises and cuts from his fight littered across his skin. One eye was purple. Every bone in his body felt heavy, and he knew that he needed to sleep, but he didn't dare try. He didn't want to know what was waiting for him in depths of his mind.

Backing out of the bathroom, he shot the mirror one last look. It didn't feel like his reflection. It was like looking at a stranger.

He found himself walking to her room, blindly. This place. It didn't feel right without her here. It felt cold, quiet, _wrong_. It wasn't home. It never had been. It was just a place. Home was wherever she was.

He pushed open the door, and the bed was unmade. He remembered the night after the HYDRA agent had attacked them. He remembered holding her as she woke up from the nightmare. He remembered waking up that morning, feeling her back pressed against his chest, and for a moment he had thought it was a dream. It was too good not to be a dream. Her hand had clung onto his, hair falling into her face. His heart had raced. He had brushed the hair out of her face, tentatively, fingers running down her cheek. He had tried to memorize every detail. Every mark, every imperfection, every curve. And as he gazed down at her, he felt like his heart would cave in on him.

Bucky pulled himself back to the present, and walked over, sitting down. There was a picture beside the gun in the drawer. He reached in, and picked it up, and instantly felt sick.

It was a picture of Cara, with a knife at her throat, head yanked back. It was clear why she was like that. It was clear they had been trying to draw him out. Trying to _use_ her. He remembered the day she had gone missing, remembered the clothes she had worn. He knew exactly why she had been so late. He ran his hand over his face, leaning back.

His hand tightened around the photo, bending it, but he couldn't care. All he saw was the hatred in her eyes in the picture (her bright green eyes shining with tears as he clung to her limp form). The knife pressed against her neck, frozen in that photograph (the knife against her neck by the man she said she used to love). Her lying in his arms as she slept, warm and calm and at peace (her lying on that hospital bed, cold and motionless). He lay down on the pillow, burying his face against it as he brought knees up to his chest. It smelled like her, like flowers and summer and some thing _so Cara_, and all he wanted was to find her again. He wanted to be with her again, to run away with her, and give her that silly dream house out in the middle of nowhere. Their house, away from everyone, where they could be happy. Where they could be normal. Where they could be safe.

He wasn't sure quite when he fell asleep, lulled by his thoughts. That night he dreamt of dead birds lying at his feet. Of a dark glass cage where he stood alone. Of a woman with hair as red as the blood on her skin, standing just on the outside wall of his prison, crying. He dreamt that she had been consumed by flames, and all he could do was watch, helpless. He dreamed that he fell, that he fell far, far away. When he woke up, shaking and screaming, clawing at the blankets, there was no one there to hear him.

He didn't fall asleep again that night.

**A/N: **thank you to anyone who reviewed! i've been super busy, but trust me i read and appreciate them all! (college sucks, my guys. college sucks.)

so. this is our first direct interaction with the Deathless that isn't in flashback form. hope you guys hate him as much as Cara does. he's a real jerk. but shit, he's going to contend with cara's wrath, so he better watch his back

the ballet mentioned is the Firebird, which you probably guess if you've been picking up on my little motifs (victor stravinsky, project firebird, etc). great ballet. there's several full ones on youtube if you're curious as to the dance.

agent master btw is a canon character from the 70's. idk if he exists now, i don't even know which of my favs are alive at this point, comics suck :/

both cara and bucky are a mess right now. being psychologically tortured and then shot by your ex boyfriend, and being forced to watch someone you love almost die at the hands of the people who destroyed your life will do that.


	53. In Fear And Dread

Cara was alone.

For the first time in days, she was completely and utterly alone.

The safe house they had chosen was a small apartment on the outskirts of town. It was a short, nondescript building, almost completely abandoned. It cut down the chances of collateral damage. She'd be transferred somewhere in a few days, when they set up something more secure and permanent.

Cara knew how this worked. The two solemn CIA agents that followed her in didn't tell her anything. They didn't say anything as they walked the perimeter, and checked the windows and doors. They didn't say anything as they left her standing alone in the kitchen without so much as a goodbye, leaving only a bag of some takeout food, and some instructions to be ready to leave at any moment. They said nothing, but she knew what this was. She knew then it was bugged, that they were watching outside, and had a tactical team on call in case went wrong. . . Or in case Bucky showed up.

She knew the windows were made of bulletproof glass, and that the doors could only be opened from the inside, or with a specific key. She knew that there were no weapons on the premise that she could use, other than the knives in the kitchen. She knew that this place really was just a glorified prison. She also knew that if the Deathless found her, no tactical team or bugged walls would be able to stop him.

She walked in a circle around the small apartment. It was one bedroom, with a kitchen, and a bathroom and not much else. There was barely any furniture, just a table and two chairs, and a bed, old and small. The walls were bare, the fridge was empty, and everything was a dull, dusty tan color. Despite that, it still managed to be cramped and crowded, and felt like it hadn't been opened in years. She hated it.

A quick sweep for bugs found that there was one under the table, one by the door, and one in lamp beside the bed. It was all painfully obvious. Cara had a gut feeling that the technology in this place hadn't been updated in years. She also found a first aid kit in the bathroom, the label yellowing, and opened it, doing a quick inventory. It was basic stuff, and she tucked it away again, making sure it was easily accessible.

Sam had given her a book, but it was short, just a bunch of collected poems from throughout the 1800's. Poe, Coleridge, Shelley, those type.

_(Sam had stopped her as she was rushed out._

"_Cara!" he said, as he ran up next to her. Agent Masters shot him a glare, which Sam ignored. "You okay? What happened?"_

"_Yeah," she said, weakly. She knew she wasn't convincing anyone. She was still shaking hard. "Yeah, yeah. I'm okay. And I don't know."_

_The nurses were rushing around, and the alarms were going off. It was chaos. Cara couldn't help but feel guilty. This was happening because of her. If anyone had gotten hurt in the blackout, it was her fault. She needed to get out of here._

"_Where are you going?" he said._

"_That's classified," Masters snapped._

_Cara shrugged, helplessly. "Sorry. I know about as much as you do."_

_Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, before handing her the book he was carrying. She held it in her good hand, the other still in a cast. Hitting the television didn't help it at all, but she couldn't say she any regrets there._

"_Here. Something to read while you're laying low. Nat recommended it. It's nice. I like it."_

_Cara glanced down at it. "Didn't take you for a reader of poetry."_

_He grinned. "Hey, I like a lot of things, and Coleridge is a genius."_

"_Heard of him," she said. "Don't remember where. But I trust you."_

"_He wrote Rime of the Ancient Mariner," he said. "You know, the poem about the bird that gets shot down. And thanks. Glad you trust me." _

_Masters sighed impatiently, and grabbed her arm, yanking her towards the door. She flinched, and she saw Sam's eyes flash, stance changing ever so slightly. She pulled away from Masters, although she continued walking towards the door._

"_Bye, Sam," she said, clutching the book against her chest. It sounded an awful lot like a final one, even to her._

"_I'll see you when this is all over," Sam said. His arms were crossed. She could tell he didn't want to let her alone leave with the CIA, not without added protection. "You can come live at Steve's fancy new apartment with me. Being an Avenger pays well apparently."_

"_Sounds good," she said, trying to smile as she walked out into the main hall. "But I don't think the hero's life is quite right for me."_

_"No one does," Sam said, with a small smile. "But trust me. I know different."_

_The door slammed shut before he could say anything else. She could just catch the look of utter helplessness on his face as he watched her leave.)_

She had finished reading the book quickly, practically devouring the distraction. (Sam was right, Coleridge was a genius. She remembered reading a line from the poem in Frankenstein, using it to explain to Bucky exactly what she was. She had an albatross around her neck, she was just as cursed.)

But the moment put it down, she couldn't stop moving. There was almost nothing to do. Her phone had been confiscated (fantastic). There was nothing in the house to clean. There wasn't even a television in the house.

So, she paced. Back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth. There was a rhythm to her step, and she focused on her breathing, taking it a second at a time. Second by second. Not letting her thoughts focus on anything in particular. Trying her best to keep her mind blank, to not to let herself drift into any memories. But that was hard. There was always something there, lurking under the surface of her mind. Things she thought she had forgotten. Things she had tried to forget.

Her childhood was one. The Deathless loved that stupid Firebird ballet. He always had it playing. She had watched it more times than she could count. She knew the steps by heart, each crescendo, each note, even now. She used to watch it in her room... it was really the only thing to watch while in the Gray Building.

God, the Gray Building. It was an ashy charcoal on the outside, almost like stone, so people couldn't look in. On the inside, it was a translucent silvery color that made it feel like the inside of a mirror. All made of a glass that couldn't shatter. The great Glass Palace of the Deathless. Of course, she hadn't known about all that. She hadn't been kept above ground, no. She had been in the labs downstairs. She hadn't even known what the sun was until she was almost four.

Her footsteps landed unsteadily on the floor, and she began to walk faster. Faster, and faster. She could remember the smell of hospitals. The white halls that stretched on and on and on. The click of shoes coming to get her, just like how hers were clicking on the wood floor now.

_Click, click, click._

"It's just a memory," she said, fingers tangling in her hair as she pulled. It hurt, but not enough to ground her to reality. "Just a a memory."

But it wasn't now, was it? It could very well become her reality again. She could find herself locked away again. She could lose herself, her freedom, her _humanity_, and become nothing more than a lab rat.

_Click, click, click._

What if she had to go back to that place? She wasn't that scared little girl anymore, and she could fight. She would fight for herself, but if she couldn't win, then what? She promised herself that they would never take her away again.

The narrow, tan walls seemed to be closing in around her, trapping her, suffocating her.

She knew that if she had the choice, she'd rather die. That if she was backed up that far in a corner, she would rather take her own life than ever have to go back again.

_Click, click, click._

The white light burned her eyes, even though it was dark in the apartment. Something was crushing her chest. She couldn't tell if it was a strap from a hospital table, or her own lungs collapsing. She wanted to scream, she wanted to scream. But she bit it back, gasping.

"Don't think about that," she said. "Forget it. Forget it. I want to forget it. _I want to forget!_"

There were so many things she had pushed to the back of mind for so long, rising up and bubbling beneath the surface of her skin and she felt _sick_.

The smell of it. The feel of needles. The bright lights. The music from the ballet. Slowly, she sank down to the ground, legs burning. The muscles around the bullet hole in her side ached. Her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall, ticking away steadily. She had been walking like that for over two hours. Sighing, she leaned her head back against the wall, and that's when she began to laugh. She felt like she was losing her mind. After all these years, she was losing her mind. Maybe it would be better that way.

She focused back on the poem that Sam had given her, remembering the words she quoted to Bucky. "Like one who, on a lonely road, doth walk in fear and dread," she murmured. "And, having once turned round, walks on, and turns no more his head. Because he knows a frightful fiend doth close behind him tread."

It was so close to her current situation, she wanted to cry, or laugh, or _something_. But she didn't. She just stared at her hands, and sat in silence, save for the ticking clock. Slowly, her mind began to calm. All thoughts faded away. Nothing felt quite real. It felt like there was void in her chest, one that spread through her veins and numbed her limbs. She couldn't even find the energy to hate how that made her feel.

There was a knock at the door. She flinched violently, sitting there for a moment, trying to pull herself together.

It was probably some CIA agent. That's all it was. That's what she told herself. If she didn't answer, they'd assume she was dead or something, and break down the door. She didn't really think she could deal with that right now. But... it could be anyone else, too. Could be anyone their way to kill her, or capture her. She stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a knife, knowing full well it wouldn't do anything to help her.

Walking cautiously to the door, she could feel her heart racing, steps echoing. There was no way to check outside, so she shut her eyes (for only a moment), and opened the door a crack. She gasped, knife dropping from her hands.

"Bucky," she murmured. He looked awful, much worse that before. The bags under his eyes were heavier, his skin paler. The bruises on his face were turning that awful yellow, purple color. He was wearing a jacket, the same one he leant her, and his red shirt they had bought, and gloves, and a baseball cap.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said. "Miss me?"

She grabbed his arm, dragging him in. His eyes darted around behind her, to the knife on the ground, then back to her, raising his eyebrows. She ignored him, holding him at a distance while she scanned over his body for any new injuries, fingers pressing on his ribs, down his arms. When she didn't find any, she glared up at him.

"You moron. You- you- you _idiot_. You goddamn idiot. Do you realize this is a trap? For you? They'll kill you," she said, shaking her head. "God, they'll kill you right here. You need to get out, now."

"I'm not leaving you alone here," he said, quietly. "There's no way in hell I'm leaving you alone."

"Bucky, I swear to God, if they catch you-"

"You'll kill me?" he said with a dark smile, cutting her off. "Kind of defeats the purpose of wanting me to leave, doesn't it?"

_Idiot_, she thought, glaring at him. "Don't joke. If they find you're here, what will you do? Just fight your way out? Bucky, you look like you haven't slept in days."

He didn't respond to that, walking a few steps in, taking in the basic layout of the apartment. He glanced back at her.

"I know how to stay invisible. Looped the security cameras, disabled any bugs, and my arm disrupts heat detection. I'll be fine. We'll be fine."

"That's what I said. And then we were outsmarted, and captured, and I was _shot_," she said, hand dropping her side. Bucky's gaze followed the gesture, the smile disappearing off his face. "You cannot be here. You have to run."

"This isn't breaking into a place we don't understand," he said. "I've gone over everything. Both SHIELD and HYDRA were years ahead of the CIA in terms of tech. I know what to do to stay a ghost."

"I know that," she said, and she ran a hand through her hair. She was losing this battle, and he knew it. They both did. "Please, please, just get out, before it's too late."

"It won't be. Trust me. I know what to do."

"I-I know that. I know that, and I trust you. But... you're in the middle of the lion's den, Bucky."

"I think I've made it clear that that doesn't matter to me," he said. "I'd walk through a thousand lion dens if it meant I could stay with you. I'm not losing you, Cara. I can't risk that. I won't them lock you up somewhere. And I'm not leaving you alone, not after what happened at the hospital-" She flinched. "I'm not letting face this on your own. I'm going to be right here, ready to face it with you."

"You know about the hospital?" she said.

He nodded. "Claire told me. Sorry I wasn't there."

She stared down at the ground, the trembling coming back to her hands. The music echoed in her head. He reached forward, grabbing them.

"I won't let them get you, Cara," he said. "You'll never go back there. I promise. I promise, I'll keep you safe."

"No one can keep me safe, Bucky," she said. "Safety is an illusion. You told me that."

"Yeah, well, I was wrong," he said, and there was an edge of a challenge in his voice.

She shook her head, looking up at him. He was exhausted. She could feel him shaking slightly beneath her.

"You're not going to leave, are you?" she said.

"Nope," he said, and smile came back, if only for a moment.

"Come here," she said, pulling him down into her arms. He rested his head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply, arms wrapping around her waist. Her fingers ran through his hair, tracing the back of his neck, and he sighed, relaxing against her. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I tried to last night," he said. "Didn't... didn't really work."

He didn't need to finish. Nightmares. She understood that.

"God, Bucky," she murmured. "You can't do that to yourself."

"I know," he said. "I just... I missed you."

"Here. The CIA made us dinner," she said. He shot her a look. "Let's eat something, and then you need to sleep."

She lead him into the kitchen, and sat him down in one of the chairs, grabbing the bag off the counter. It was sandwiches, which looked as plain as the apartment. She handed one to Bucky, after he had taken off the jacket and hat. He eyed it suspiciously.

"CIA dropped this off?" he said.

"Yeah," she said.

He put it down sharply on the table, as if it burned him.

"Barnes, if it's poisoned, we'll both just die," she said. She took her own, and biting into it, sitting down across from him. It tasted like nothing. "It'll be _tragic_, and _beautiful_. Lovers, killed by sandwiches. We'll be legends. They'll make a movie about us."

He glared at her. "Don't joke about that."

"About getting killed by sandwiches?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"About _dying_," he said.

"Yeah," she said. She forced a smile, with a shrug. "Guess that's a bit too soon for that, huh?"

"It'll always be too soon," he said, before falling silent. He glanced up at her, like he was really looking at for the first time since he got here.

She leaned back in her chair. "They won't kill me, you know. The CIA I mean. At least not on purpose. I'm the only one who knows anything about you. I'm basically in witness protection in case you try to murder me before I rat out your location."

"Thought you said this was a trap for me," he said.

"Hey, I never said it was particularly _good_ witness protection," she said. "But until they have something else on you, I'm valuable. You're the real danger here."

He considered her words carefully, tilting his head, and taking a bite, chewing thoughtfully. When he detected nothing, he shrugged.

"I am the real danger," he said thoughtfully, taking another bite. "Should be very worried about me. I'm a ghost story."

"Mmm," she said, leaning forward. "You're terrifying. You, and your adorable smiles, and your distrust of sandwiches. I'm so afraid."

"_I am,_" he insisted, looking at her seriously.

"Of course you are, Bucky," she said, reaching across the table and patting his hand. "Very dangerous. Very stupid. Very beautiful."

He shot her a dirty look, but the corners of his mouth twitched. She grinned, and his face lit up, as he entwined their fingers, the metal cold against her skin.

"You're lucky you're cute," he said. "Don't know how I'd put up with your otherwise."

"Mmm, I'm not cute," she said. "You can do better than that."

"Come over here, and I'll show you better than that," he shot back. They both blinked, before he looked simultaneously taken aback and pleased with himself.

"God, you get more unbearable every day," she said, laughing. "Were you always this bad?"

He shrugged, not saying anything. From the way his eyebrows drew slightly together, she doubted he had an answer.

"Will you take me up on it though?" he said, leaning forward, eyes dark.

"Depends," she said. "On how much of jerk you are today."

He smiled at her, leaning back, and in that moment, she was just... happy to have him back. Happy to have the void filled, the silence gone, the noise in her head drowned out. She wasn't alone, not right now. She was happy, for a moment, and so was he.

Then something flashed across his face, like he was suddenly reminded of something. The illusion shattered. He reached into his pocket, any trace of happiness gone. It was a photo, a polaroid. He stared down at it a moment.

"I found this," he said, sliding something over to her. She reached forward, picking it up, and breathing out slowly. It was the ransom picture of her, the one from the two bounty hunters she killed. Her eyes were staring dead into the camera with a cold hatred. There were no masks. That was her, as she really was.

She dropped it, quickly.

"Shit," she said. "You found that."

"Yeah," he said. "I found it.

"Seems like a lifetime ago," she murmured. "Before you knew who I was."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" he said.

"No," she said. "Probably not."

"Why not?" he said. He still held onto her hand. She could hear the plates in his arm shift.

"It didn't seem important."

"Those people were going to kill you," he said. "If you were a real civilian, they would have killed you."

"No. You would have gotten me out," she said firmly.

"That's not what I did for HYDRA," he said. "I didn't get people out. I let them die. If I had team, it was their responsibility to get out on their own, unless I was ordered directly to help. I had a few protection jobs, but what I did, what they trained me to do... Cara, I made sure there were no survivors."

"No," she said. "I know you. You would have gotten me out. You've always had my back. We've gotten out of worse than that."

"_You don't know that,_" he said, letting go of her. "They... They had you. There was a knife against your neck, and you were a hostage. Cara, I don't know how to handle that. I never worried about hostages, or civilians, or collateral damage when I with _them_. If I got that picture, and went down to rescue you, I would have panicked. I mean, I already have. When we were there, and Grail had the gun against the back of your head... I didn't know what to do. God, I didn't know what to do."

"There was nothing _to do_ in that situation," she said. "There was nothing either of us could have done."

He stared down at hands, and Cara could practically feel the guilt pouring off him. She got up, and walked around the table.

"Look at me, Bucky," she said, gently touching his shoulder. He did so, slowly, his hands landed on her waist. "I love you. You know that, right? I love you, and I trust you, and you're a good man."

"Please," he whispered. "Don't. Don't do that."

"It's true. Nothing will ever stop that from being true."

"You almost died," he said, and his hand brushed over the bullet wound. She kept her face level. "Because of me."

"No, because I was stupid and reckless, like I always am," she said, gently tracing down his cheek. "Not because of you. You'd never do something like that to me."

Something flashed across his face. Terror, maybe. Or despair. It broke her heart.

"I might," he said. "If they said the right thing, said the right words, I'd shoot you where you're standing. I'd do whatever they tell me to. I'm never really going to escape them."

"They'll never get close enough to do that," she said. "They'll have to go through me. I'd die before I'd let them ever have you again."

"Don't say that," he said, pulling her down sharply into his lap. His arms tightening around her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Don't ever say that again."

"It's true," she murmured. "I'd die before I'd let them lay a finger on you."

"Please," he said. "Please, don't say that again."

She hummed quietly. "Alright, my love. Alright."

Not saying it didn't make it not true. They both knew that.

He leaned back, and lifted up the bottom of her shirt, staring at the dressing covering the bullet wound. His fingers brushed over it tentatively, his other hand doing the same on her back.

"Does it still hurt?" he murmured, glancing up at her face.

"A little."

"Is it healed?" he said.

"Not quite," she said. "Still bleeds a bit. Not as bad as before though. Could be worse."

"Yeah," he breathed. "_Could be worse._"

"Don't think about that," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "Please don't think about that. We got out."

"Cara, what are we going to do now?" he said. "If you leave, you'll be wanted, like me. And if you don't-"

"If I don't, something worse could happen," she said. "We just… we just need a plan, and we'll get out of this, and then we'll disappear."

"Like ghosts," he said.

"Like ghosts," she repeated. "Ever think you'd want to be that?"

"I've been one for so long," he said, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "I don't know what else I could ever be."

"You're James," she said. "You're Bucky. That's who you are. That's who you are, and that's who you always will be."

He laughed, almost harshly, pulling her as close as he possibly could. Neither of them said anything, and she didn't know how long they sat like that. All she could think about was how he was here with her. The void was in the empty, dusty air of the apartment was filled, the silence was gone. His hand ran down her back, lightly. She wasn't alone. She wasn't alone. She wasn't alone.

And for the moment, time didn't matter. The ticking of the clock faded away, and the seconds that haunted her seemed to stop. It didn't matter just then, and for that, Cara was eternally grateful.

**A/N:** ok so i hate college and i'm emotionally drained because marvel is destroying my soul (in a bad way... they have made... mistakes... many mistakes... so many... i am so tired). that's really my excuse this time. but i gave you bucky barnes hug time so love me anyways.

i would just like to say... i'm so sorry cara. that hurt to write.

things will start moving again next chapter. i have about half of it written now, so we'll see it up pretty soon!


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